Screaming For Vengeance
by Muffy Morrigan
Summary: After Sam, then Dean, are injured on hunt, Sam goes missing. Taken by the object of their hunt. Dean realizes hunter has become hunted and it is all more sinister and far more personal than he could ever have dreamed. HURT!DEAN Hurt!Sam NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Title is from the Judas Priest song._

**Screaming For Vengeance**

Chapter One

The woods were damp, the rich smell of autumn—decaying leaves, overripe berries and the wet fir trees—was so strong it was almost a physical presence. Solid, tangible. The cottonwood was beginning to yellow, the leaves bright on the ground making the trail seem lighter than it actually was.

"I hate the woods, Sam," Dean said from behind his brother. "My feet are wet, it's your turn to carry the pack, I'm freezing and I think I'm getting a cold."

"You have been complaining for ten miles, Dean. Ten miles. Think you can give it a break for a minute or two?" Sam stopped and turned back towards him. "I don't like it all that well either, but—just shut up for awhile, ok?"

"Ok," he said a little sullenly. _Jeez, Sammy, I was just making conversation. I don't like being this far from anywhere, I feel a little, I don't know—exposed. Hunting miles from civilization has a fair number of risks. Let's see, the last time we were in the woods for any length of time I think I almost got eaten. Yep, the McDean special at Wendigo's. And you are cranky, Sam. Hear me? Cranky._

"Good," Sam said turning and walking away from him.

Dean sighed. Sometimes hunting just wasn't fun. Cold woods, cranky brother and of course the object of the hunt. Maybe a spirit animal someone had summoned. _And as usual, it didn't go quite how they were expecting. When will people learn that summoning things is just not a good idea? Demons, spirit creatures, ghosts, whatever. It never goes well._

The creature had broken out of the circle it had been summoned to and was now wreaking havoc over three counties. _Luckily it is easy to track—just follow the happy trail of blood. _And that's what they were doing, they'd been out for three days, but Dean had a feeling they were getting close. That sense of being watched, of unease, that alerted him to danger. It had been growing, slowly, over the days, increasing the tension in his back, increasing his sense of awareness.

_And how exactly did we get talked into this? Oh, yeah, old friend of dads. His old friends are going to get one of us killed someday. _And he stopped, pausing in thought and on the trail. _That was probably not the best thing to say. I hope I haven't screwed us over._

"Dean?" Sam had halted at the crest of the hill they were trudging up.

"Yeah?" He hurried his pace a little to get to where Sam was standing.

"What do you think?" Sam said pointing.

Blood had run over the top of a stone, making darker streaks in the damp. There was something on the stone. "Severed human hand. Nice. Always fun." Dean grinned at his brother. "At least we know we are headed in the right direction."

"Comforting, Dean," he said smiling. "You seem awfully happy about that poor hand."

"Maybe we'll be out of here soon." He walked away from the stone and then back. "Two trails. Which one?"

"The hand is kind of in the middle. I'm not sure," Sam said walking a little way down one of the trails. "There's blood down here."

Dean had wandered down the other trail. "Damn."

"What?"

"Blood down here, too." He walked back up the trail, Sam met him by the stone. "Which way first?" _And don't you even say…_

"Why don't we each go down one?"

"Nope." _No way, nope. _

"We'd get out of here sooner, Dean."

"No, Sam."

"Why not?" Sam said frowning at him.

"Separating is never a good idea, Sammy. Leaves us exposed, you know."

"Dean? You're paranoid."

"I'm careful."

"Paranoid."

"Careful."

"Para…This isn't really getting us any further and the sun will be setting in a couple of hours."

"I'd like to have a camp made and a fire started before full dark, Sam."

"Yeah, me too."

"Ok, which way?"

"Dean?"

"No. Just pick a trail, Sam. Just do it and stop arguing," Dean said. _I am not going to let you go off alone, it's just not smart. Oh, and if you try? I'll just follow you._

Sam sighed and headed down the trail he had scouted. Dean followed.

The path closed in, hazel trees reaching overhead and creating almost a tunnel. The small sounds of animals in the brush mixed with the soft rustle of the wind in the dying leaves. Dean could see the darker shapes of large trees back from the trail. For just an instant he thought he saw something else, moving silently in the shadows. He stopped and looked where he thought it had been. After a moment he chuckled. He could see the gray skeleton of an ancient tree.

"Dean?" Sam had come back up the trail.

"Sorry, Sam. I thought I saw something. I think I'm getting jumpy, that's all." He rolled his shoulders to relax the tension that had built up in his back.

"Ok, Dean," Sam headed back down the trail.

Dean followed, watching as the woods slowly dimmed. _It gets darker faster back here. _The hazel tunnel ended suddenly, a more open area appearing before them, giant trees rising above their heads. Maple and cottonwood leaves littered the ground, coloring it with their bright confetti. It was little lighter there. Dean sighed. Being closed in always made him a little nervous.

Something caught his vision. He walked off the trail to an old stump, still showing the scars of a long ago fire. There was a…_Great, this is getting fun. _"Sam?"

"Yeah?" His brother turned and headed towards him.

"Found the other hand. Good choice on the trail."

"Lucky for us, huh?"

"Yeah, not so much for whoever the hand belonged to," Dean said smiling a little.

"So do we keep going down the trail? Or go that way," Sam said gesturing beyond the stump.

"Still blood on the trail, right? Let's keep going for another half-hour or so then settle in for the night. Maybe we'll find someplace to keep our backs."

Sam nodded and continued down the trail. Dean stood by the stump for a second more. _I wish I could shake the feeling we are being watched._ He turned and right as he did he thought he saw something moving again, parallel to the trail, along the tree line to his left. He looked back, he saw something disappear behind a large trunk, a second later a deer walked from behind the tree. _I am more than a little jumpy. Sam might be right, I might be a little paranoid._

Half an hour of walking got them no closer to their quarry. They were heading up another hill when Sam stopped by a huge boulder.

"Let's stop here for the night, Dean."

"Why?" He said, feeling a little exposed on the hillside.

"We can use the boulder for shelter. If we build the fire in front it will be pretty cozy," Sam said with a smile.

"Exactly how can a large rock be cozy, Sam?' He ducked under the overhang of the rock, "It is dry back here. Ok, we stop."

They had evolved a routine over the past three days. Dean went out to gather wood and Sam got everything ready for the night. He built the fire ring and managed to make pretty good makeshift beds. Dean had to admit it wasn't all that bad, the first had been miserable because of rain, but the other hadn't been that bad. _Next time I think we are only going to be walking around in the woods for an hour or two I am going to bring a tent. It is never only an hour, never. You'd think I'd learn._

He was walking back towards their shelter, his arms full of wood when he, again, thought he saw movement. The hair on the back of his neck suddenly rose. He stood still listening, every bit of his hunter's instinct reaching out, searching, sensing what was there without any movement of his own. And something was there, at the very edge of his hearing there was the soft sigh of a breath, and another. A softly grunting sigh. Something was out there.

Dean took a step, and sensed that whatever it was had shifted as well. Another step and the feeling of unease, the feeling of something between his shoulder blades. Another step, the soft breath grunted out from somewhere behind him. It was there, watching, waiting. He tried to glance through the darkening woods, but could see nothing except the shapes of the trees surrounding them.

"Dean?" Sam called, breaking the silence, breaking the spell. "What's taking so long?"

"Coming," he said. He knew that whatever it had been had moved off for the moment. He tripped over something and fell. He heard Sam head towards him.

"Hey, you alright?" Sam helped him up.

"Yeah, tripped," he looked down to see what he had tripped over. "Just freaking great."

"Dean? Is that a foot?"

"Yep. Nice." _The fun goes on and on. _They walked together to the shelter of the stone and Sam set about making the fire. Once it was going, burning brightly, the sense of being watched lessened considerable. _Maybe it doesn't like fire. It seems to me last night I relaxed once the fire was going. That might be worth remembering._

"I'll take first watch Dean, if you want to catch some sleep." Sam said moving out of the glare of the fire a little bit.

"Ok," he said settling into the soft leaves and pulling the emergency blanket and his jacket over his shoulders. "Next time we are bringing more blankets and a tent."

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "At least we remembered food and something to keep water in, and we have managed to find clean water. But you're right, next time we'll try planning ahead for a change. We're so good at that."

"We are amazing at that aren't we?" Dean said smiling. He closed his eyes.

"Dean?" Sam was shaking him gently. "Hey, your watch man."

"Thanks, Sammy," he handed Sam the blanket and Sam handed him a cup of… "Is this hot chocolate?"

"Yeah, I heated up the water in a can and melted a chocolate bar in it. Luckily we are well supplied with chocolate," he said with a laugh.

"I always make sure we have enough of the important stuff," he moved out to the edge of the firelight so he could see into the dark a little better. "Get some sleep."

"Thanks," and Sam was quiet. Dean heard his breathing even off into sleep almost before the word was out of his brother's mouth.

He leaned back against the boulder and sipped the chocolate. _That was nice of Sam. I hope he made some for himself. _The forest was alive with the sounds of the night. He could hear rustling off to his left and something scurried by right in front of him. _I hope that wasn't a rat. _There was the sound of a larger animal moving behind where he sat, he could hear the soft fall of its feet on the leaves. A deer ghosted by, stopping to nibble on the bushes. He listened, lulled into near sleep.

Silence pulled him back to complete awareness. He listened. The night was suddenly silent. No rustling, no scurrying, even the wind seemed quiet. Then, the soft, grunting breath, sighing softly.

Dean moved back towards the fire and put another log on, the blaze flared up. He could hear the sighing over the crackle of the fire. He tossed on another log and pulled his gun out. Something was moving around just outside the light of the fire. He thought could see a dark shape against the darker forest. It moved into the trees and disappeared. A few minutes later he heard an owl call in a tree over head. _Whatever it was, everything else is afraid. Hmm, I think I will sit here by the fire and keep it well stoked for the rest of the night._

It was just before dawn, that moment between night and day, when it returned. Dean was aware of it, the soft breath, the sound moving around him. The fire was still burning, he threw another branch on. He could hear something moving in the leaf litter behind him. He could hear it grunting, the soft, near snarl of its breath. He had the sense of being watched, the feeling of tension building in his body. _It is there, somewhere, I know it. I think it's afraid of the fire. _

A sudden sound caused him to jump. Sam sat up beside him. "You ok, Dean?"

"Shh," he said. Sam was quiet. Dean listened, it had moved off again. "It's gone," he said to Sam.

"What?"

"I don't know, something," he stretched. "Can you make more of that chocolate?"

"Sure," Sam pulled out the bottle and poured some water in the can, breaking a chocolate bar into it as well.

"You're pretty brilliant with this camping stuff, Sammy."

"I read about the chocolate bars in history class," Sam said with a smile.

"Really?"

"Yeah, during World War Two the GIs would do it."

"So you learned something, nice," Dean said with a laugh. They sat together under the shelter of the boulder and in the light of the fire until the sun was well up. Dean sighed. He didn't really want to move away from the fire. The sense of unease, while diminished, was still there—right between his shoulder blades. _I hope I am just being paranoid._

"You ready Dean?"

"Not really, but we might as well go," he said standing up. "Which way?"

"Well the foot was over there—that way?" Sam said walking up the hill. Dean followed.

Just over the hill the forest got denser again. The underbrush thick on either side of the trail. Dean could see a little, but not much, beyond the first few feet. There were blackberry bushes on one side. The smell of the berries filled the air with a slightly fermented scent. The day was warming up and the ground was steaming where the sun managed to break through the canopy of trees.

Dean ran into his brother. "Hey."

"Sorry, man." Sam looked back at him. "I think we're still going the right way." He was looking down at the ground.

"Hmm, I wonder if that foot belongs to the same person or if it's a couple of people?"

"I hope it's only one."

"Yeah, me too, actually," Dean said walking around his brother and the foot. "Come on, let's go."

Sam caught up and stepped ahead of him.Dean looked up through the trees, there were clouds to the south. _I hope that's not rain. _

"If it rains I'm just heading back to the car," he said to his brother.

"Yeah, we've been walking for three days, car's a ways off, Dean."

"I don't care, if it starts raining again I give up, I've almost had it anyway. I mean the blood and severed body parts are ok, but the rain and the trees and the cute furry creatures—nice way to spend a couple of days."

Sam was shaking his head. "I hate to say it, but I kind of agree this time."

Dean chuckled. _Nice to know I'm right._ He followed along. It was getting cooler and the sun was fading as the clouds approached. Dean caught movement at the corner of his eye. Something had shifted in the undergrowth, disturbing the branches. _It could just be the wind, but only there? _He paused, listening. Nothing. _Which would be comforting, but the birds have stopped, too. Just like last night. _

They stopped by a stream for a break around noon. Sam refilled the water bottles and they shared a cold lunch. A squirrel was yelling at them from a branch overhead. Sam tossed a couple of peanuts out onto the ground. The squirrel was quiet and a moment later it scurried down the tree, grabbed the nuts and headed up another tree. Once there it started in on them again. Sam laughed.

Dean froze. He thought he saw something on the other side of the stream, just for an instant, then it was gone. He could see the bushes sway as it moved through them. He put a hand on Sam's arm. Sam looked at him, and looked across the stream. He nodded that he saw whatever it was moving there.

"Is it gone?" Sam said soundlessly.

"I don't know," Dean answered in the same tone. "I don't know what it was."

Sam stood and gestured at the path that ran parallel to the stream, Dean nodded and they set off again. Dean was beginning to think they had made a wrong turn when they found a circle of stone splattered with blood. Sam stopped and looked back at him.

"At least it's not a leg," Dean said with a smile.

"I don't find that very comforting, Dean," he said, but he was smiling.

Sam had just stepped into a dark place on the path when Dean heard it again. The grunting snarling breath. Rasping along, keeping pace with them. He paused, trying to locate it. He could hear it moving, or something moving, in the dense shadows off the trail. The patter of rain had started and was masking some of the sound. But he could still hear that breath, sighing, snarling. He could feel it watching him. He knew it was moving with them, waiting for its moment. The tension was building between his shoulder blades. The brush was swaying, marking its passage. Still it stayed in the trees, the soft grunting breath the only sound other than rain in the forest. Everything else was silenced.

And Dean knew, suddenly, without a doubt. The realization curled through him, chilling him slightly, raising his awareness, alerting him, tensing the muscles in his back.

_It's stalking us._

_**To Be Continued **_


	2. Chapter 2

**Screaming For Vengeance**

Chapter Two

A rock hit the path just in front of Dean. He jumped, startled and looked up. Sam had stopped and had turned back towards him. His brother was frowning with concern. Dean put his finger against his lips and carefully slid his gun out. He was still listening, trying to hear through the rain that was now beating down on them. He thought he heard the breath grunt—then nothing. A minute later a bird started singing in the path ahead of them. _It's gone again._

He caught up with Sam and they moved forward on the trail. Dean was comforted by all the noise around him. Usually he would be disturbed with that much sound, but the bird calls meant that it wasn't around them, at least not close.

"What is it, Dean?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

"You thought you saw it yesterday?"

"I'm not sure what I saw. I heard it last night, I think, I'm not sure."

"We should make camp before dark tonight, just in case."

"Yeah, and we get the fire going first, then I'll go gather more wood."

"Spirit animal wouldn't be bothered by a fire, Dean."

"I know." Something dropped on the path behind him, he spun around. A green pinecone was lying there. Another fell an instant later. Dean looked up, he could just make out a squirrel on a high branch. He laughed, gesturing for Sam to continue down the path. His brother was laughing with him.

They had started climbing another hill. _Up and down, up and down, how many damn hills are out here anyway. _Dean was tense. That sense of being watched, of being followed. And it seemed that they found something on the crest of nearly every hill. Sam stopped at the top, looking around. He wandered off to the left. Dean saw him freeze. He hurried to the top.

"This is becoming some kind of sick treasure hunt," he said looking down at an arm, bereft of hand. "I guess it means we are going in the right direction, but why couldn't it have just stuck with the trail of blood?"

Sam was looking at him like he was crazy, "Dean, you've been in the woods too long."

"Probably," he looked around, the blood was washing away in the rain. "Let's keep going a little longer." _Not much longer though, I think we turn back tomorrow no matter what. I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about this._

Sam headed down the trail, sloping steeply from where they had found the arm. His brother turned on the path, out of Dean's line of sight. He was trying to catch up, trying to be careful to not fall when he heard, suddenly, nothing. The silence dropped on the forest like a blanket. Dean stopped, listening, his senses reaching out. That soft breath was there, just at the very edge of awareness, snarling, grunting, he could hear it moving through the underbrush. Out of the corner of his eye he could see movement, not much, like it had paused and was standing watching him. It waited one heartbeat then another. He heard it move off.

Sam cried out on the path ahead of him. Dean ran, "Sam!" Sam was sprawled face down at the bottom of the trail. Dean dropped to his knees beside him. "Sam?" He wasn't moving. Dean turned him over, there was a little blood on his face, where he had hit a rock embedded in the path. "Sammy" _Open your damn eyes, come on._

His brother groaned. "Dean?"

"Good job, Sam. What did you trip on?"

"Nothing, I swear something knocked me down."

"What?"

Sam sat up. "It felt like something hit me from behind, knocked me over."

Dean turned his brother around slightly and ran anxious eyes over Sam's back. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. _What is that? _"You're right, looks like something knocked you down." He said standing and offering a hand to Sam to help him up.

"Dean, what's wrong, you look freaked."

"I am." He looked around. "Let's find another big rock and get settled in for the night."

"We probably won't be lucky enough to find another glacial erratic."

"Then something. We need something at our back." Dean was tense, and getting tenser. He could feel the muscles in his stomach and back clenching, near to outright spasm. The birds had started again and he saw a couple of deer off the trail. _They seem a little skittish, too, but we might be causing that. _

"Don't get too far ahead, Sam," he called when he realized that he couldn't see his brother.

"I'm ok, Dean. I think I found us someplace for the night."

Dean rounded a corner in the path. His brother was standing in front of the huge root mass of an overturned tree. There was a large hollow and the roots curved overhead and around the side, making a cave of sorts. _If we are back in there I can't see all that far, but there is only one way for it to attack. Mostly. Good. _"Looks good, let's get a fire started." He had that feeling between his shoulder blades again.

Sam started building the fire while Dean gathered wood. He didn't go far. He wanted to make sure Sam was safe by the fire before he ventured further out. _That way at least one of us is maybe out of its reach._ He carried the wood back to the shelter of the roots. Sam already had the blaze going. He took some of the branches Dean had gathered and started carefully adding them to the flame. _He's pretty good at this camping stuff. I bet he used to go camping in college and just never mentioned it._

Sam stood right at the edge of the fire while Dean gathered enough wood to last the night. Dean had no intention of leaving the safe circle of firelight until dawn. He was pretty sure it didn't like fire, it had stayed back last night and possibly even the night before. He made a large pile of branches on either side of them, adding to the cover as well as putting the wood in easy reach.

Dean sat down beside his brother. Sam already had water heating in the can. "I think we should turn back tomorrow, Dean."

"I think you're right, I was thinking that earlier. I'm beginning to feel like we are being played somehow. Just one of those feelings. And every day, every mile is taking us further out." He shrugged, "I'm probably being paranoid."

"I don't think so," Sam said softly.

"Not very comforting, Sammy," he said with a smile.

They were sitting backs against the great ball of roots. Night had fallen and the sounds had shifted from the calls of birds to the soft murmurs of the night creatures. An owl hooted from a tree, they could hear the yip of a hunting coyote. Something was walking by to their left. Dean could just make out several deer in the shadows beyond the light of the fire. It was quiet, nearly peaceful. He was dozing, he could hear Sam's even breath beside him.

And something screamed.

It had a near human sound to it, shrill, filling the quiet forest. It bounced around them. And again it shrieked, and again, and again. It sounded like it was drawing closer. Dean tossed another branch on the fire. And again it screamed, whatever it was. It was close, very close. The scream subsided and Dean could hear that grunting breath. Snarling, rasping, just beyond reach, just out of the light. He could sense it moving there, back and forth, stopping and watching and them moving again. The soft grunts coming from one side and then the other.

Dean's heart was pounding. He tried to see beyond the light, tried to get a better bearing on it, but he couldn't. In order to see he would have to leave the safety of the fire, if he stayed he couldn't see into the dark. He pulled out his gun and started to move to the edge of their shelter. A hand stopped him.

"No, Dean, don't." Sam said. "I think that's what it wants."

Dean dropped back beside his brother. _He's right, but I need to know what we are dealing with. Not knowing is a little disturbing. _"Ok, thanks." He could still hear it, out there in the dark. It was moving again. Away. He let out a breath. It was definitely moving away from them now. He relaxed a little and leaned back, trying to get his heart under control. _This is just not good for my life expectancy. _And he laughed, bitterly. _Yeah, cause that's so long anyway._

The forest was still silent. The usual noises gone completely. Nothing was stirring, nothing was calling, even the coyotes were quiet. Sam and Dean sat together, unmoving. Dean's hand hurt, he was gripping the butt of the gun so tightly it was cutting into his hand a little. He could feel the tension in Sam.

And it came again.

Dean could hear the soft snarling breath as it approached. He could hear it moving, ever closer, the grunting as it came towards them. It stopped. Dean could still hear it breathing, softly. It sounded almost like it was coming from above him. He froze. His mouth suddenly dry with terror as he realized it was on the tree they were using as shelter. He could hear it now, clearly, just above them. He thought he could hear the rasp of claws against the bark. It stopped. He knew it was there. Waiting, watching.

Sam looked over at him and put a hand on his arm. Making contact, keeping him there. His brother's hand had something of a calming effect on him, the reminder that they were there together. They were in this together. That knowledge always made it easier, always helped calm him, helped focus him. _And Sam knows it. I'm pretty sure he feels the same way too._

Something dropped down on them, something large. They both reacted, jumping away from the point of impact. Still staying with in the bounds of the fire. A large stone lay where Dean had been sitting. He looked up at Sam. _I wonder if I look a freaked out as I feel.  
_

"You ok?" Sam mouthed.

Dean nodded, "You?" He saw his brother nod. They moved cautiously back to the center of the shelter. Sam put more wood on the fire. Dean heard it move away again. He didn't relax this time. He sensed it was still there, just not quite as close. Movement to the right. He could see something out in the dark. The sound of the snarling breath filling the silence of the forest with its menace. It moved in front of them. Dean lost sight of it in the blaze of the fire, then he was aware that it was on the other side, moving in slowly. He reached over and pushed Sam behind him. _ That way neither one of us is exposed. We are both in the middle, both in the shelter of the fire. _Sam put a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean?"

"Just watch my back, Sam."

It stopped. He could see the shadow, waiting, slowly swaying back and forth. A dark shape against the darker forest. It grunted, a sharp staccato sound. And he saw it moving again, back away from them, behind them. He heard the claws against the trunk of the tree. It was drawing closer, he could hear something dragging along the log. Something fairly big, something that would catch and then he could hear a branch snap as whatever it was broke free. Closer, closer. It was above them again. The soft sighing breath, snarling above their heads. Something dropped again.

"Shit," Sam jumped away as a headless, limbless body dropped down on top of him. Out from the center of their shelter. He landed hard, his hand and arm lying beyond the edge of firelight. Dean was reaching out to help his brother up when Sam suddenly shouted and was dragged away.

Without thinking Dean grabbed a partially burning branch from the fire and ran after Sam. He could see the light color of his brother's shirt as he was dragged from their shelter, away from the fire. It was moving fast. Dean could hardly keep sight of Sam as it dragged his brother through the dark forest. He could hear its snarl as it moved away from him.

He stopped—he realized he couldn't hear it anymore. He stood still, listening, holding the burning branch in front of him like a weapon. Nothing. Just the unnatural silence. Then, he thought he heard the soft sigh again. Snarling, grunting. It, too, was still.

It grunted, a new sound, almost like a bark, but not quite. It was animal, but there was something else there, something else in that sound, something that send chills down his spine and raised goosebumps on his flesh. He heard it move. It was walking slowly, down into a darker well of trees. Dean could just see its shadow as it moved. He started to head in that direction when he heard something else.

_Sam_.

He started to run in the direction of the sound, of the scream. His brother had cried out in pain. Sam was lying at the base of a tree, there was nothing else around. It was gone, moving quickly through the underbrush.

Dean pulled his brother up and felt Sam put his arm over his shoulders. Dean walked as quickly as he could, carrying the weight of his brother, back to their shelter, back to the safety of the fire. He pushed Sam under the roots and dragged the bloody torso away.

"Sam!" His brother's eyes were closed. His face was scratched. His left wrist was bloody, there was another bloody mark up by Sam's neck, near the indentation of the clavicle. "Sam? Answer me. I need you to answer me."

"Dean?"

"Good boy, Sammy." He gently turned Sam's wrist over looking at the damage. It had teeth marks on it. _Probably how it was dragging Sam through the woods. _Dean looked closer at the other bloody mark by Sam's neck. _Did he hit something? _He pulled the collar of the t-shirt down. There was a single wound. It looked almost like a puncture mark. Like a single claw or tooth had been purposefully pushed into that spot.

_That looks almost like…_Dean panicked just a little.

He wasn't sure why that single mark worried him so much, but he had the sudden feeling he needed to flush out that wound. He grabbed the bottle of fresh water and started pouring it over his brother's shoulder. When that one was empty he grabbed the other. _I'll find more drinking water tomorrow. _

"What is it?" Sam said, frowning at him as he poured the water over the wound.

"I don't know, just a bad feeling. Lie still. Don't move around at all, Sam." He was out of water. _I can't put a tourniquet there. I need more water. I have to find some, even muddy water would be ok for this. _He looked outside the ring of fire. He could hear the owl in a tree to his left. _It might be safe enough for me to go out to that big puddle we walked around. _He grabbed the bottle. He tucked Sam's legs closer to the fire and put his coat over his now unresisting brother.

"Don't move. I'll be right back."

"Dean?"

"It's ok, Sam. I heard the owl again. It isn't around right now I don't think." He was out to the puddle and back in record time. He knelt back down beside his brother. "Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"Good. I'm going to wash it out again, this water is fairly cold." He started pouring water into the wound, hoping he could get enough to…_To do what? Why am I so worried about that? Because it did this and then left him. That's why. It pulled him away from me and then just left him._

"Dean?"

"What is it?" He said pouring the second bottle over his brother's shoulder.

"Are you almost done? That water is pretty cold, my arm is kind of tingling."

_Oh, no. Not good, not good. _"Nearly done," he said trying to keep his rising panic out of his voice.

"Good, I'm pretty cold," Sam said. Dean noticed his brother had begun to shiver. He gently moved Sam closer to the fire. He saved the last bit of water and poured it into the can to heat up. Hoping it would help warm Sam.

When the water was warm, but not too hot, he slipped behind his brother and propped Sam up against his shoulder. "Can you drink it, Sam?"

Sam nodded and sipped at the water. He let his head drop back against Dean. "I'm feeling a little weird, Dean."

"How, Sam?"

"Cold, and my arm—it feels strange. I know that wrist is hurt, but I can't really feel it anymore. It was hurt wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was. I need to get some bandages on it. It's good it doesn't hurt, makes it easier." _This is so not good._

"How did you know?" Sam said.

"Know?"

"That something was wrong?"

"Wasn't sure, just thought I should take every precaution, you know." _And I don't know if it was enough, Sam. I don't know._

"But why did you think…"

"Sam?"

"You think it has poisoned me or something don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Spirit animals can't poison you, Dean. They aren't venomous."

"I'm pretty sure we aren't dealing with a spirit animal, Sammy."

"Then what?"

"You're the encyclopedia, what do you think?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it, really."

"You heard it didn't you?"

Sam shifted a little so he could look at Dean, a little frown of concentration on his face. "I think so. I know something was out there."

"Yeah," Dean said. _I wonder if he realizes he is leaning almost all of his weight against me? _

"Dean, I think it's still bleeding, isn't it?"

Dean looked down. The puncture wound was swelling, blood running down his brother's chest. "Yeah, but that will help clean it out."

"You think it's bad, don't you?"

"Yeah, a little, Sam."

"Did you get enough out?"

"I don't know. I don't know how much is enough, I don't know if…"

"If it wanted to kill me or just hurt me?" Sam said. He was lax against Dean.

"Yeah, something like that." Dean felt for the pulse in Sam's right wrist. It was still there, faint but there.

"Still alive?" Sam said with a smile.

"Yep, you're still alive. You just stay with me until morning, Sam. I'll get you out of here then."

"What about the hunt?"

"Doesn't matter Sam. Let's get you out of here and worry about that in a bit." _Three days, almost four days out. _

"Ok," Sam said, he sighed. "In the morning, Dean?"

"Yeah, just stay with me until then, ok?" _Just stay with me little brother, hang on. _"Sam?" He looked down, his brother's eyes were closed. "Sammy?" He could still feel the faint pulse against his thumb. "Sam?" And he heard the desperate note creeping into his voice. "Just hang on until morning, Sam, then I'll get you out of here." He leaned back, holding Sam against him, hoping to transfer a little of his warmth to his brother.

And the silence fell over the forest.

And he heard it, the soft, sighing breath. Grunting, snarling.

He saw movement outside of the firelight. He could hear sound of its passage as it moved around them, slowly, seeking them, stalking them. Waiting, watching.

And Dean knew, suddenly, the realization curling through him, it was beginning to feel just a little like fear. Like a cold hand reaching out to him, but he knew, without a doubt then.

_It's hunting us._

_**To Be Continued**  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Screaming For Vengeance**

Chapter Three

It was still out there, beyond the light of the fire. Dean could hear it moving back and forth, the soft sighing breath the only sound other than the fire. It circled them, moving, stopping, moving again. The sound of it moved away. The fire had begun to die down. Dean shifted Sam gently onto the ground and put another log onto the fire.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was weak.

"Yeah, Sam," Dean said shifting a little.

"How long till dawn?"

"About an hour, I think."

"Is it still there?"

"No, it moved off a little while ago."

"Good, let's get going as soon as it's light enough to go, ok?"

"Sure, Sam, the sooner the better." _I hope getting you moving isn't a huge mistake._

"Thanks, Dean." And he was quiet again.

Dean sat back against the roots again. One hand resting on his brother. _It came yesterday just before dawn, I wonder if it will come today. _The sky was starting to brighten a tiny bit. Sam was unmoving under his hand. Dean was tense waiting for it to come back. His gun lay beside him, within easy reach. The light was slowly gaining in the sky, he felt himself relax a little, an almost unconscious reaction to the return of the sun. A bird started up, singing brightly in the bushes.

Dean picked up the one of empty water bottles and went to the large puddle. The water was actually fairly clean. _I already gave some to Sam, I hope it doesn't make him too sick. I'll boil this before we drink it this morning. _He had turned to go back to their shelter when the sound of the bird was suddenly cut off, like it had been struck down where it sat.

The next moment he heard it, sighing, snarling, in the bushes. The tangle of branches was swaying, moving back and forth, slowly, like it was there, standing, watching, only that slight movement, nothing more. He looked across at their shelter, at the fire, burning in front of his brother. He judged the distance to that safe place.

And he ran.

He heard it behind him, coming fast. Heard its breath as it approached. Dean stayed focused on getting to the fire, to Sam. Something slammed into his back, something caught on his head, on his neck, slicing into his skin. He was knocked face down, onto the ground. He rolled over, ready to defend himself but it was gone, moving quickly into the trees. He saw the dark shape shifting through the still dark forest. He stood and ran the last few yards to their shelter.

He sat back down and threw several branches on the fire, letting it blaze up. He pulled Sam back from the flames a little so he wouldn't get singed. _My scalp is burning a little. _Sam moved slightly, groaning a little and tried to push himself up. Dean put a hand against Sam's back and helped him up.

"Thanks," he said smiling at Dean.

"How do you feel?"

"Ok, my arm is still cold," Sam looked down at his left hand. He looked down for a minute or two longer and then looked up at Dean.

"What, Sam?" Dean said, there was something in his brother's eyes that worried him.

"I…" Sam swallowed and looked down again. He reached over with his right hand and touched the left. "Dean…"

"What is it Sam? What?"

"I can't move my arm at all, I can't feel my hand," there was panic in Sam's voice.

"It's probably just asleep, Sam," he said. Dean moved a little closer and picked up his brother's left hand. It was cold. He glanced up at Sam, his brother looked completely freaked out. _I wonder if I look like that? _

"I don't think it's just asleep. I'd have pins and needles by now."

"I'm sure it's ok, Sam," _I think it is just the opposite of that, really. _He was rubbing Sam's hand, trying to warm it up. _I have to know how bad it is. _He carefully slid his right hand under Sam's hand and dug his fingernails into Sam's palm. His brother didn't react. _Ok, worried. Wow, my scalp is really burning now, and I think that cold I feel on my neck is…_

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?" He said leaning over to get some chocolate out of their pack.

"Let me see the back of your head."

"What?"

"Just do it, Dean." Sam said in his "taking care of you now" voice.

Dean sat up. "I'm fine, Sammy."

"I'm sure you are, Dean, just a little bit bloody, but let me look, ok?" Sam's voice was remarkably calm.

"Ok, Sam," he turned around. Sam kind of hissed. Then Dean felt his brother's hand against his head. "See, nothing to worry about, Sammy."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said softly, calmly. "Nothing to worry about."

"I'm going to make something warm to drink if you're through back there, doc," Dean laughed.

"Not quite yet, Dean," his brother said, very calm. "Did we bring the first aid kit?"

"Yeah, how do you think I managed to bandage your arm?"

"The one with the sutures, Dean?"

"What?"

"The sutures," Sam said softly. "Do we have some with us?"

"I doubt I need stitches," he said batting his brother's hand away.

"Dean," still calm, his voice soft. _Like dad's would get when we were kids and he was worried we would panic about something. Funny how much Sam sounds like dad sometimes. Hmmm, I wonder if I should panic? _

"I'm fine Sam, really," he said trying to push Sam's hand away again. He went to move, Sam grabbed him.

"Just get the sutures, Dean. You'll have to help, I only have one hand."

_I wonder if I am a little more hurt than I thought—just a second ago he was freaking out about his arm and now he's Mr. Calm. Hey, at least I managed to distract him. _"Sam…"

"Dean, I can see your skull, ok? And I think we should fix that before we go don't you think?" And the volume on Sam's voice rose with each word until the last came out as nearly a shout.

"Jeez, Sammy, ok, we'll fix it," he said trying a grin. Sam smiled back.

"Good Dean, You'll have to hold it together while I stitch it up."

"Ok, Sam," he got out the first aid kit and pulled the suture package out, opened it and handed it to Sam. He passed his brother an iodine patch and turned back around. "Holding together." He reached up and put his hands on the back of his head and felt his scalp slip with a squish. _Nice. Just great. _

It took a little longer than usual. Sam was having a hard time only one handed, but he managed eventually. Dean smiled at him and started heating up some water.

"Let's have something warm to drink then we'll get moving," he said.

Sam had started rubbing his left hand. Dean fussed around heating the water to boiling and then melting some chocolate into it. He put in an extra piece, figuring Sam could use the calories to keep him going. He was trying to ignore the bleak look on his brother's face.

Dean was listening the whole time, listening to the silence. Waiting for that sighing breath. Waiting for the sound of its approach. He handed Sam the chocolate, keeping half a cup for himself. Listening. Waiting. Letting his senses stretch out beyond their shelter. Seeking its presence, not finding it, but still it was silent, even as dawn approached, it was silent.

"Dean? Should we get moving?"

"Not, yet Sam. I'm waiting to make sure it has gone before we set out." He nearly jumped out of his skin when a squirrel started chattering from a tree outside their shelter. "Time to go, Sammy." He tucked his gun back in its holster, picked up the pack and grabbed one of the burning branches. "Can you carry a couple of dry sticks?"

"Yeah, Dean, why?"

"I don't think it likes fire," he said. He handed Sam a couple of long branches. "Let's go."

They were headed back the way they came. Up the first hill, past the place it had first attacked Sam. Dean stayed behind his brother. _It knocked him down, then grabbed him. It knocked me down, but left me. I wish I could shake the feeling that it has a plan with this, that it knows what its doing. _Sam stumbled. Dean caught up with him and put a hand under his brother's arm.

"I'm ok, Dean. Just a little dizzy." Sam set out again.

The path seemed twice as long as it had the day before. _Of course we are moving much slower. I wonder if Sam realizes how much he has slowed down since this morning. It's nearly noon, I think we should stop for a break, for some food._ He looked around. It was fairly open, he could see more than ten yards in all directions. There was a large fallen tree just off the path.

"Let's stop, Sam." He called to his brother. Sam nodded and walked to the log, sitting down with a sigh. "How are you doing?" Dean said sitting down beside him.

"Ok, Dean," he said swallowing. "Sorry I'm a little slow." He smiled at Dean.

"No problem, gives me more time to look at all the scenery. Watch the cute furry animals."

Sam laughed, "Yeah, cute animals and scenery are your thing, Dean."

"I love furry animals, you know that. I was even thinking we should get a kitten," Dean was laughing too, handing Sam a protein bar.

"What?"

"Yeah, did you see that Metalocalypse with the home for wayward kitties? Made me want a kitten."

"Are those the kitties that ate people alive?"

"Yeah, cute, don't you think?" Dean said smiling. Sam was still laughing, shaking his head a little. Dean was pleased to see a little more color in his brother's face. Sam's left arm still hung, limp, at his side, but his eyes had brightened a bit.

"I worry about you sometimes, dude. You know that?" Sam finished his lunch and stood up. "Let's keep going."

"You sure? You don't need to rest more?"

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah, but I'm not hurt."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not hurt?"

"Nope."

"And those stitches…?"

"Just a couple of stitches, Sam, no big deal." He hoisted the pack up onto his shoulders. "Alright, if you're ok."

Sam walked ahead of him muttering something about stitches and skulls. Dean was starting to get nervous. He couldn't put his finger on the cause. The forest was still alive with sound, but the tension was slowly building again. It had dissipated during lunch, but it was back. He could feel it starting between his shoulders, slowly tightening muscles. _Maybe it's because the path closed in again. I like to be able to see if something is coming and I can't here. And now up another hill. How many hills are out here anyway? Is it hill breeding season or something? _

Sam had stopped ahead of him. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"We are going the back the same way aren't we?"

"Yeah," he was catching up to his brother.

"I don't remember this, do you?"

Dean stopped beside his brother and looked off the trail where Sam was pointing. A birch sapling had been broken, the sharp end pointing at the sky, blood running down the white bark. "You'd think doing that would have broken the tree more," Dean said.

"It wasn't here yesterday, was it?"

"I'm pretty sure we would have noticed an impaled head, Sam."

"That's what I thought. Should we bury it?"

"Yeah, we should, but we're not. We're going to keep moving." Sam looked at him with a frown. "Sam, I know, ok. But I have this feeling, remember what you said last night? About that was what it wanted? I think this might be just like that."

"You're right," Sam turned away. "We'll come back and bury it."

"Yeah, or salt and burn it," Dean said under his breath.

They moved away from the small tree with its gruesome decoration, moving around a large hill. The sense of tension was growing every moment. Dean knew they were being watched, it just wasn't close enough to silence the forest. He thought he caught movement far up on the hill they were skirting. A shadow moving along, above them, the dark shape sliding between the trunks of trees, hidden in the perpetual dusk under the forest canopy. Dean watched its silent passage for a minute. He thought he saw it slip over the crest of the hill, out of sight.

He moved on, still with his eye up the hill. Checking on Sam, walking slowly ahead of him, then back to the hill, seeking it in the trees. Dean was very aware of the tension, not only in himself, but in the forest around him. It was as if everything there was aware of that dark shadow moving through. Suddenly Dean realized that the woods were growing quiet. Not silent, not yet, but the sound was becoming diminished. Like the slow setting of the sun, the sound was dying all around him.

The branch Dean was carrying had burned almost to his hand. He saw another, bigger, longer, branch off to the side of the trail and rather than call out to Sam to stop he just bent over and grabbed the branch.

And the forest fell silent.

Dean heard it moving before he could react. It struck him down. He hit the ground hard. Really hard. Black spots danced before his eyes. He heard something else while the stars were dancing in front of his eyes, but it didn't quite get through. It didn't quite register. He sat up on the trail. The branch was nearly burned out, he quickly got the other one burning and looked down the trail to Sam.

He saw his brother on the ground, just off the trail. He picked himself up and ran to Sam. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Dean let out the breath he'd been holding. The forest was silent. He could hear it, behind them, off the trail. The softly sighing breath, grunting, snarling. Just out of reach, just out of sight. He looked around, looking for someplace to move Sam, someplace so he had a wall against his back. He suddenly realized they were almost back at the huge stone they had sheltered under. _We must have made better time than I thought. _

Dean picked Sam up, and pulled his brother's right arm over his shoulder, quickly heading down the hill towards the stone. It was back there behind him, he heard it move, heard the bushes responding as it passed through them. He could hear its breath, behind him, further up on the hill.

"Sam, you with me?"

"Yeah."

He got Sam under the shelter of the stone and pulled some of the firewood they had left into their fire ring. _Sammy's better at this, but I just need you to light, fire, come on. Light! _The kindling burst into flame and he carefully fed it, building it up into a big blaze.

"Sam?"

"Here, Dean."

He could hear it moving, staying just out of sight. The soft sighing breath, waiting, just over the lip of the hill. Dean realized the sun had disappeared behind another set of clouds. _ Great, rain, that's all we need. _It was moving off again. The birds slowly started singing, first on Dean's left, away from where it was watching, then on his right, the sound slowly building as the rain started.

Dean turned to look over at Sam. His brother was leaning against the stone. Sam smiled at him a little lopsidedly. "Nice fire," he said softly.

"Thanks, Sammy, I've been watching you do it," he sat down next to his brother. Sam leaned against him.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam."

"I think I hurt my arm, where the wound is, when it knocked me down," Sam said softly. He turned a little towards Dean.

"Let me look," Dean gently pulled the t-shirt back, There was another mark there, beside the first. A single wound, a puncture wound. He grabbed that water and started pouring it over the mark. "You should have told me sooner."

"Sorry, Dean," he said, "That's cold, I'm getting cold." Dean pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Sam, still trying to clean the wound. He was out of water.

"I need to get more water, Sam, there's a stream about 300 yards from here, I'll be right back." He grabbed the bottles and the can they used to heat water in and ran. To the stream and back. _And if someone had a stopwatch that would have been a world record. _Sam's eyes were closed when he got back. He washed the wound again and ran to the stream and washed it again. Sam still hadn't moved. _I don't think I can do anymore good, now. _He moved closer to the fire, pulling Sam with him, holding him in the warmth.

"Dean?" Sam said softly.

The sun had set, night had crept over the forest. Dean had fed the fire, he had listened for it to return, he had waited for Sam.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You're worried?"

"A little."

"I don't think it lasts all that long, Dean."

"What?"

"The venom. I could move my fingers a little right before it attacked," Sam said with a sigh, leaning against him. Dean thought he had dropped off to sleep. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Nothing," Sam said quietly.

_Are you checking on me? _"We'll get out of here and you'll be fine."

"In the morning, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam, in the morning." Sam sighed again and let his head drop against Dean.

He had no idea how many hours had passed. He fed the fire, he checked on Sam. He listened to the night, alive around them. _It hasn't come again, I wonder why. What is it waiting for, why is it waiting? Why did it do this to Sam? Why? How bad is Sam? What does it want?_

He didn't notice the silence at first. But awareness slowly crept over him. He threw another log on the fire. He could hear it now, moving closer, moving in the trees, just out of sight. The soft sighing grunt, just beyond the fire, close enough to touch, almost. He thought he heard a noise like a sniff, like a dog smelling a far away scent. He heard it again, and it moved, around the front of the fire, closer to where Sam lay. He heard the sniff again, right outside, so close.

And he heard it sigh. He heard it breathe in and out. It was standing there, waiting in the dark, sighing. He could hear it close, so close, just out of reach of the firelight. _What it is doing? _And realization stuck him. _It's checking on Sam. It wants to know…know what? If he's alive or if he's hurt? _

It moved again, around the stone. It was beside him now. He looked through the light and could just make out its shadow shape. It was sniffing again. _It's checking on me, I think. Why? _It sighed. A slightly different sound. _Whatever it wanted to know, I didn't have the right answer._ It moved away, something screamed in the night. The death scream of something—a creature that had its life suddenly torn away. Dean could see something moving, trickling down with the water on the stone.

Blood.

And he knew then, without a doubt. Fear was starting to wake, moving through him like that dark shape through the forest.

_It's playing with us._

_**To Be Continued**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Screaming For Vengeance**

Chapter Four

The blood ran down the stone, dripping in front of the fire. Dean could hear those drips, each one. _I'm imagining that. It's raining. I can't possibly hear that. _He heard it move off again. Shuffling through the leaves, its passage nearly silent in the rain.

He leaned back against the rock, shifting Sam a little. Moving closer to the fire. He could feel the cold in his brother's arm, he could feel the cold moving into Sam's chest. _I wonder why it was smelling us? I think it liked what it sensed from Sam, but not me. I wonder what it wants from me? _The forest was still silent around him, he could see the beginning of dawn in the sky to the east. He was waiting for it to come again.

And it did.

He could hear it approach, moving in, but it was coming fast. Shifting leaves out of its way, a branch snapped like a gunshot. Dean caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and his instincts let him react, get out of the way of the rock, rolling towards them, rumbling towards their shelter. He pulled Sam out of the way as the rock plowed into the fire, scattering the burning branches.

And it was gone.

Dean waited for several minutes before moving back towards the front of shelter. He had heard it go, the soft grunting breath behind them, fading in the distance, but he stayed still until he heard a bird start to sing.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sam. We're going to get going here in a minute." _It's not quite light, but it's gone and we need to get moving. I don't know how long it will stay gone. _

Sam was struggling to sit up. "Dean?"

"What?" He looked over at Sam.

"It's bad."

"I don't think so, its gone for awhile and the sun's almost up" Dean said looking at his brother, Sam was watching him.

"That wasn't a question."

"Sam?" He was starting to feel a little frantic. Sam was looking at him, his face was calm, his voice was calm, but his eyes…

"I'm cold, Dean."

"Ok, Sam," Dean pulled the emergency blanket around Sam, tucking it in behind him.

"I don't think that's going to help much."

"What?"

"It's like my arm."

"What is like your arm?"

"My chest and my left leg," Sam said, looking at him.

"I'm sure you're just imagining it, Sammy," he tried smiling. _Like that is going to convince him of anything except I am about to panic. _He put a hand on Sam's leg, it felt a little cold, even through the pants leg.

"Check it, Dean, like you did my hand."

"What?"

"Although a pin might work better than fingernails."

"You knew?" Sam nodded and watched as Dean pulled a pin out of the first aid kit. "Ready, Sam?" Dean pushed the pin through Sam's jeans. His brother didn't react. He tried again a little lower.

"Hey, felt that a little." He tried at the ankle. "That hurt!" Sam sounded so pleased about that Dean couldn't help but laugh a little.

"So, see it's not that bad." _Yeah, on the epic scale not bad, not bad at all. Personally though it is bad, really bad, Sam. _

"Yeah, not bad, Dean."

"Good. I think we should get moving, get as far as we can this morning." Dean said packing up. "It always comes right before dawn then disappears for awhile. We need to take advantage of that I think."

"Dean, you should walk out and get help, come back for me. If it wears off, I'll follow you."

"And you think I lost my mind where? Not leaving you, Sammy. Sorry just the way it is."

"I'll slow you down. I don't know if I can even walk."

"Sam?" He looked at his brother. _Sam is freaked. I don't blame him. But he is nuts if he thinks I'll leave him._

"I really think you should…"

"Shut up, Sam." Dean smiled at him. He slid out from under the stone and grabbed a long burning branch. "Ready?" Sam nodded and Dean pulled him out and then hoisted him up, Sam's left arm over his shoulder.

"I can't hold on with that hand Dean."

"I know, but I can and that way your good leg is out," he smiled at him. "Just like a three legged race."

"Yeah, we always sucked at those." Sam said with a little laugh.

They set out, down the hill, following the trail beside the stream. It was slow going. They had been talking for the first couple of miles, but Sam had gradually gotten quiet. He was leaning more and more against Dean. _I hope moving him isn't a mistake, but I can't leave him. Lesser of two evils I guess. We haven't gone all that far, but he needs to rest and I need to get another torch going. _He was looking around, trying to find someplace to shelter them while they rested.

He finally found someplace he thought might be a little safe. An eroded spot above the stream, part of the bank, cut away in a flood. It was almost a cave. _At least it's big enough to sit in and I'll make a fire out front. I don't really know how much longer Sam is going to be able to go today anyway. _

"Sam? We're taking a break." Sam nodded. Dean headed towards the stream bank and set Sam down so he could lean against the wall of their makeshift cave. Sam smiled.

"We need to get a fire going," Dean said. Sam nodded again. Sam's silence was beginning to worry him. _He actually hasn't said anything for how long?_ He got a small fire going and went out to get some larger wood. He didn't have to go far, just down from their shelter a snag had caught a lot of debris. _And it's fairly dry. Nice of nature to give me a woodpile. Maybe I shouldn't resent it so much. _

He sat back down beside Sam. "Sam?"

His brother smiled at him "Yeah?" he whispered.

"Sammy?" _What's wrong with your voice? Sam?_

Sam smiled again and shrugged, "Sorry, Dean."

"How long has that been going on?"

"It started to get harder and harder to talk awhile ago," he whispered.

"And we didn't mention it because?"

"Nothing you could do right then. Why worry you?"

"Yeah, cause springing it on me hours after it happens is so much better for my heart," Dean said a little sourly. Sam laughed. "I'm going to get some water so we can have hot chocolate, ok?" Dean said looking at his brother.

"Sure, Dean, be careful."

"Dean walked down the edge of the stream and rinsed the water bottle out. He looked back, checking on Sam. His brother was out of sight, tucked back in the small cave. _Good he might not be able to see much, but nothing can see him, at least from here. _ He had just finished filling the bottles when he noticed the forest going silent.

_It's here, somewhere._

He stood slowly, his hand reaching to his gun. _I don't even know if this will work against it. Why didn't I grab a torch again? _Their shelter with the safety of the fire was up stream on his left. He could hear it, back behind him, in the undergrowth by the snag. Shuffling softly, snarling. The temptation to turn and look at it was strong, but he resisted and started slowly walking up the stream towards their shelter.

He didn't hear it move that time. Suddenly he was down, a huge weight pressed into his back. Holding him down. His face was in the water. _Is it trying to drown me? _The thought had barely formed when he felt its claws, tearing open flesh. Down his leg. The weight lifted from him abruptly. He tried to turn himself over. He heard it move away—away from him, away from Sam.

He managed to stand on the third try and made it back to the edge of the shelter before he gave out. He saw Sam look up, and then his leg went out from under him.

_Wow, my back kind of stings. My leg doesn't feel all that good either._ He groaned a little trying to move.

"Dean?" Sam said. "Dean?" And he could hear the panic in the whisper.

"Sam?" He opened his eyes. He was pulled into their shelter. Sam was looking down at him. He tried to sit up and Sam put his hand on him, shaking his head. "What?"

"Don't move yet, I think it got you with its claw."

"Yeah? Really? You think? I was there, you know."

"Dean? Venom? Remember?"

"It didn't bite me, just sliced," he tried to sit up again.

"Dean you've been out for nearly an hour."

"What, no, I just got in here." He looked at his brother. "Sam? How did you?"

Sam glanced away for an instant, "My right arm is still working, Dean."

He sat up and pulled himself back beside Sam. His brother frowned at him. "I'm ok, my leg's just a little stiff."

"Yeah, sure, just a little stiff," he tolled his eyes, "and bloody and sliced open."

"I'm fine, Sam," there was something in his brother's eyes. "What?"

"It's been here, several times. I could hear it moving around. It was on the bank for awhile. I think it was checking on us or something. It left then came back. I think it's up the stream right now."

"It checked on us last night, too." _Why? _He listened. He could hear it over the sound of the stream. Breathing, sighing softly. _The sigh, it sounds…_He paused looking at Sam, his brother's left arm lying like something dead against his leg. His left leg still, unmoving.

_And now it hurt me, just a little bit more. Not as bad a Sam, I don't think. I can feel my foot. I don't think it intended to kill me. _And he started to worry, maybe even panic a tiny bit when he realized what it had done. _It just hurt me bad enough to make it hard to help Sam. Just enough to…_

"What is it, Dean?"

"Nothing, Sam. If it moves off—do you think you can make it further today?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. He looked like he was about to say something, then just nodded. "Dean if you are going to try to go further, we should bandage your leg up. I let it bleed, but it's a pretty good gash."

"You talk a lot for a guy that can't talk, Sammy," Dean said with a smile. Sam smiled back. They got out the first aid kit. With Dean's help Sam carefully bandaged Dean's leg, wrapping the sterile gauze with an elastic bandage.

"Good job, Sam. Really good job. Is that a squirrel?" He said looking out of their shelter. He could hear the squirrel chattering from a tree on the other side of the stream. "Time to go, Sam. Think you can?"

"Dean?"

"Sam? What?"

"If you're ok, I'm ok. Ok?" Sam said looking at him.

"Nothing wrong with me, Sam, all fixed now." Dean pulled himself out, away from the fire. "We're both carrying torches this time, Sam, just in case." He put the pack on. _And nice to know I have a huge bruise back there. Doesn't hurt at all, nope. _ Sam had scooted out and grabbed a large root hanging out of the bank. He pulled himself up—and started to fall back down again. Dean grabbed his arm. "For the smart one, you can be kind of dumb sometimes."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replied, comforted by the familiar insults.

Dean got Sam's arm over his shoulders and felt Sam trying to keep from leaning on him too much. They were moving at a snail's pace. With every step Dean's leg hurt just a tiny bit worse, till after an hour it was screaming with pain. He ground his teeth together. Another hour and Sam was leaning on him more and more, finally Dean's leg gave out and they tumbled to the ground.

"Graceful," his brother whispered.

"Shut up." He said sitting up and looking around. _Well at least we got far enough so I can't see where we were anymore. That's comforting. We might have gone as far as half a mile. _"You ok?"

"Yeah, Dean, you?"

"Yep." He could see a large overturned tree down the trail from them. "I think we should settle for the night, Sam, what do you think?" _Why hasn't it come back, what's going on?_ "We only have to go another few yards." Sam nodded. Dean managed to get them both on their feet and in the shelter of the roots. He lowered Sam to the ground and started reaching around, trying to find tinder to get a campfire going. He made a small pile of pine needles and small twigs and found a couple of large branches.

"You're getting brilliant at the camping stuff, Dean," Sam whispered with a smile.

"Thanks, Sammy." He looked around, there was nothing else to burn, the fire was small and dying quickly. "I have to go out and get more wood, Sam. Will you be ok?"

"Yeah, be careful, Dean."

_I don't want to go, especially with that small a fire, but we need wood to get us through the night. _He limped out from under the shelter of the roots and started looking for firewood. _There's not all that much around. Weird. _He was walking farther and farther from their shelter. He kept looking over, checking on Sam. He hadn't realized how far he had moved away from Sam, until he looked and noticed he couldn't really see inside their shelter. _And still not all that much wood. It's almost like it was all…_He stopped and stood, looking around. He finally saw some piled another ten or so yards from him. _That's weird, that's really weird. _

And he froze for an instant. The sounds of the forest were silent. _How long has it been quiet? _He turned back towards their shelter, he saw the shadow shape moving away from him, moving away from their shelter. He ran, as fast as the leg would get him back.

The shelter was empty. The fire scattered into a smoldering ruin.

"SAM!" _He can't answer, even if he can hear me he can't answer._ Dean could see the drag mark where it had pulled Sam away. He ran, following the rough track. He lost the trail once, desperately casting around with the burning branch and he saw a spot of blood on a stone. And another. _It's leading me somewhere. _

He followed the trail of blood, hoping that it wasn't Sam's, knowing it was. He had been following it for half an hour when he noticed something off the trail. A good ways off the trail. _It's been baiting me along, but I have to check. _He moved through the brush, forcing his injured leg to go just a little further. Something was draped over a log.

Dean ran.

"Sam! Sammy!" His brother didn't react. "No, come on Sam." He felt for the pulse in his brother's wrist, he found it, but his hand came away slick with blood. _It took him and left him, again, why? _He pulled Sam off the log and over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. He started heading back to the shelter. His leg was giving out more and more with each step.

And he heard it, just off the trail. He could see the bushes moving as it slipped through them. It was sighing, grunting softly as it tracked Dean. He kept the burning branch on that side of him and still it followed, snarling softly. Almost like a purr, like a thing pleased with itself.

Dean could see the fallen tree where their pack was. The small fire was still smoldering. He dropped Sam down in the shelter of the roots and grabbed as much small stuff as he could, shoving his burning branch into the middle of it. _I need more wood, I don't want to leave Sam. I don't know how much longer my leg is going to hold out. _ He looked at his brother, Sam hadn't moved at all since Dean had set him down.

"Sam? I have to get some wood, we have to have a fire tonight. But I am not going far. I am right here." He walked away from the shelter, the heap of pine needles was still burning. Dean finally managed to get a good supply of wood and headed back to the shelter. The pine needles had almost gone out, but there was enough burning to coax it back into flame.

Sam still hadn't moved. "I'm going to get more wood, Sam, I have an idea."

Dean went out and got more wood, picking up as much as he could carry. _I think tonight might be bad. _He piled the wood carefully around them, putting them in a circle of wood. _I remember a few things from school too, Sam. I think they did this to protect from grizzlies. I think, but maybe it was that movie on Sci Fi? Well it worked wherever I saw it. _He lit the wood so the fire was burning all around them.

Sam still hadn't moved. "Sam?" He pulled his brother closer to the fire, and tucked the blanket and his coat around his brother. He put several stones in the fire to heat. _I remember that too, from one of those survival shows. Nothing like late nights and bad cable. Have to be careful, quartz can explode and kill you, which would be bad._ He pulled the stones out of the fire with a stick and put them next to Sam.

"Thanks."

"Sam?" He looked down at his brother. Sam still hadn't moved.

"Yeah?"

"How are you doing?"

"Great, Dean."

"You look great, Sam." He said gently. "Sam?" _Come on, tell me how you are. I need to know, please, Sam. _ And he realized his worry was becoming fear. "Honest, Sam."

"Remember when I said it was bad this morning?" The whisper seemed faint.

"Yeah."

"I was wrong."

Dean swallowed, sat down and stretched his leg out . He lifted Sam so he was lying against him a little, his head resting on Dean's leg. Sam smiled his thanks. "How bad, Sam?" _He's not moving at all. He hasn't even shifted. _

"Not good."

"Sammy? How not good?"

"Not good, Dean."

Dean put his hand down on Sam's chest, feeling his brother's heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Sam closed his eyes. "Sam?"

"I'm here, Dean. I was remembering—when I was what—about eight or nine I think? And I had bronchitis and you sat all night with me, heating towels in the room's microwave and you sat in beside me and put your hand on the towels to make sure they stayed on and I was warm?"

"I remember, Sam." _I remember being scared, that's what I remember Sam. You were wheezing, coughing so hard you could barely breathe and dad was gone and I was worried that something terrible was going to happen._

"Am I dying, do you think?" Sam said looking at him.

"No, Sam." _Not yet, I don't think it wants you dead. Yet. _

"I'll get you out of here in the morning, Sam."

"In the morning, Dean?" His voice had faded to nothing.

"Yeah, Sammy in the morning. I'll watch tonight, ok? Get some rest." Trying to make it sound normal. Sam closed his eyes with a gentle sigh. "Just stay till morning, Sam."

He leaned back, shifting a little. His leg was aching. It felt stiff. _And I bet it doesn't get any better overnight. _He could see something moving in the dark. The shadow shape sliding around their shelter. Moving. It came close, nearly close enough for the light to touch it. Dean heard it sniffing again, heard it sigh, that soft purring sigh of near content. It moved, shifting around to be closer to Dean. Sniffing, scenting the air. It sighed, it wasn't quite a purr, but it sounded…_What? More satisfied? _Something rolled into the fire, making sparks fly. And another stone, rolling into the other side. One from the front, then it was quiet.

The rasping approached, claws dragging along the tree trunk behind him. The soft breath, above him, grunting, snarling. Something fell into the fire. Something round, something heavy. Dean smelled the acrid scent of burning hair and flesh, he looked at what was there in the fire—once human, the mouth was open in a silent scream.

It moved again. The grunting breath from beside them, another rock rolled into the fire by Sam's feet. The fire died down for an instant and Dean saw claws seeking over the edge of the shelter, reaching towards Sam. He pulled his brother away and the claws withdrew back into the night.

It made it's barking call. Close, then further out. From above, then beside them. Another rock into the fire beside Dean and one of those claws, seeking silently, unseen, around the edge of the fire drew a bloody line across his arm. He shouted and pulled away. Fired his gun once, twice into the night, in the direction of that soft breath. His heart was pounding. He looked down at the deep slash on his arm, listening for it to move, listening for the sound of its breath.

And he heard it. The soft sighing breath, grunting, snarling, purring with pleasure.

And he knew, the realization curling through him, fear touching him, truly touching him for the first time. True fear, the kind that can steal thought, that can take a life and it was growing slowly in him.

_It's torturing us…_

_And enjoying it._

_**To Be Continued**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Screaming For Vengeance**

Chapter Five

It was still watching, waiting, breathing softly outside the light of the fire. It hadn't moved again, instead staying still. Dean could see the dark shape swaying, a moving shadow against the night. He could hear it sniff, seeking their scent on the soft night breeze. It grunted softly, a sighing breath filled with menace, with pleasure. The shadow moved then, melting into the silent forest.

Dean shifted enough to grab the first aid kit out of the pack. _I need to get a bigger one of these. Of course, never going into the woods ever again. Nope. Never. Nothing will ever get me into the forest. Nothing. Period. I don't care if every playmate for the last two years decides to have naked party and asks me to go. Nope. Not in the woods. _He swabbed the wound out with iodine and wrapped some bandages around it. _And nice, I think my fingers are tingling. But it didn't bite me, that was a claw. _

The yip of a coyote, close by, calmed his pounding heart. The sounds of the nighttime forest slowly awoke around him. An owl called from a tree, he saw the bird's silent flight as it swooped down on the hunt. A little scratching sound above him, a tiny rodent peered out of the root ball and disappeared up and over the log. A group of deer, just visible in the firelight, walked by. _Great, now I'm in a freaking Disney movie. Bambi? Thumper? You two around?_

He shifted a little, trying not to disturb Sam more than necessary. His brother was so still, usually he was a fairly restless sleeper. His chest felt cold where Dean's hand rested on it. Dean stoked the fire and leaned back against the roots. _I think half an hour and then I will have to feed the fire. But I have to sleep for a minute or I can't keep going. _He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. He wasn't expecting to get a signal, but it had a timer with a loud alarm. He set it and closed his eyes. When the timer beeped he fed the fire and reset the alarm, and again and again. He managed to get nearly four hours sleep.

The sounds of the night were beginning to shift to those of the day. It was still full dark, but Dean had the sense of morning, the sun returning again. The group of deer were still close by, as if they too felt safer there in the glow of the fire. _Which is just freaky. Every nature show I have ever watched says animals are afraid of fire. _He could hear them pulling the leaves from the branches. Dean sighed and looked down at Sam.

His brother was watching him.

"Hey, Sam, we'll get going here in awhile. I'll make some chocolate." Dean said. Sam smiled and nodded. "Sammy?"

"I'm ok," it was hardly even a whisper.

"Yeah, right." He got one of the water bottles and their can and started heating up the chocolate. "I'm thinking of writing a book 'Camping With Just a Can' and including your recipe for hot chocolate. What do you think?" Sam smiled at him. "Yeah, you're right kind of lame. How about 'Dean's Wilderness Secrets'?" _And I am talking because I am nervous. He hasn't moved at all, he is hardly speaking and, yes, Sam, I'm a little freaked._

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's just, Dean. I…"

"Sam?" _Come one Sam, not in the mood for twenty questions._

"I…I can't move my legs, Dean."

_Oh my god, no. Oh, Sam. _"What? Both? Are you sure?" _Of course he's sure. _

"Yeah, sorry, Dean."

"You want some of this chocolate?" _Trying to buy myself some time Sam. _His brother nodded and Dean carefully lifted him up so he was leaning part against the roots and part way against Dean. He held the cup out to Sam. His brother looked at him. "Sam? Your right arm, too?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, wouldn't be the first time I fed you," he tried smiling at Sam. "At least chocolate is better than strained peas or something." He tipped the cup so Sam could take a sip.

"Thanks. I was thinking that maybe this is how it takes the body parts off, why we didn't hear anyone screaming, you know."

"I doubt it is humane enough to do this so they don't feel pain." Dean said looking into Sam's face. "Sam? What?"

"I didn't mean that—just that they might not realized it had done it. And they couldn't scream."

"Sam?" _What does that mean? _"Sam, what?"

"It hurts, Dean."

"What?"

"It's weird, I can't feel anything, I can't move my legs, but they hurt. Ache, deep, like in my bones."

"Bad?"

"A little." His voice was fading away again. "You're going to have to leave me here, Dean."

"Uh, yeah, not happening, Sammy. So just shut up about it."

"Your leg can't take it, Dean. You barely made it back here last night."

_And you were awake? And didn't say anything? Why, Sam? So you wouldn't worry me again? Yeah, that's not happening either. Pretty sure I'm worried. Yep, worried, very worried brother over here. _"There has to be a way, Sam, has to be."

"And you won't listen to reason?" His voice was fading a little with each sentence.

"Reason? There is nothing reasonable about leaving you here, Sam."

"Travois?"

"What?"

"Travois? A kind of stretcher you pull on the ground."

"Like in Dances with Wolves?"

"You watched that movie?"

"It was on one night when we were in some hotel that only had three stations. I couldn't sleep through the snores coming from the other bed."

"Sure, Dean. But yeah, like that."

"I'll see about it making one of those, just after it stops by for morning coffee." He tossed more wood on the fire. Carefully stoking each side. Sam was quiet, leaning against him. _He feels so cold. _The sky was getting light. Dean could feel his muscles start to tense in anticipation. Each moment he waited for the silence to fall, each second his heart was pounding a little harder. His hand was clenched in a fist. The sun rose over the horizon, the clouds blood red against the golden light.

And still it didn't come.

The birds were singing in the bushes and a squirrel was happily chattering at him from a tree across the glade. _Stupid squirrels are beginning to bug me._ The sun was up, already gently warming the forest. The trees shifted in a soft wind, the leaves sounding almost like running water.

And still it didn't come.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean," no longer a whisper, just a suggestion of sound.

"I need to leave long enough to make the travois, ok?"

"Sure, Dean, be careful."

Dean kind of hopped over the fire and out of the shelter. _Not even smoking, good job_. He made sure the fire was well fed and walked out in search of two pieces of wood big enough to make a travois for his brother. He wandered into a small stand of trees_. Next time I bring an axe. I have one, why didn't I bring it? How exactly am I going to make this?_ He found two fallen saplings about the same length that he thought would work. _I have some rope in the pack, not all that much, but maybe enough._ He dragged the branches back to the shelter and looked in.

And still it didn't come.

"Sam?" His brother opened his eyes and smiled. "Almost ready to go."

He put his travois together, using fir branches to make a soft bed for Sam. He pulled the pack out and put it down to use as a pillow. _And that way I don't have to carry it. _The fire was starting to die down. _Since I have a handy sled we are taking firewood with us this time, just in case it decides to get cute again and take it all away. _He looked around, aware of the tension in his body. Aware of the pain in his leg.

And still it didn't come.

Sam was unmoving, watching him as he packed up. Dean reached in to grab one of the water bottles with his left hand and the fingers took a minute to respond. He got them around the bottle and it just dropped out of his hand. He looked down at it. _Just great. _

"Dean?" The soundless voice.

"What?"

"Your hand?"

"It's ok, Sammy."

"When did it get you?"

"Last night." He kicked the fire out by Sam . "Ready?" Sam nodded. Dean pulled him onto the travois.

"Tie me on Dean."

"Sam?"

"If I start to slip I can't stop myself and I don't think I'm going to be able to talk much longer, even whisper."

Dean swallowed. _This is so not good, just not good, Sam. We are still so far out. I hope I can get you back. _He passed a rope around Sam and tied it off. Dean smiled at his brother, then put the strap around his shoulders, picked up his torch and started to pull. _Ok, he goes on a diet as soon as we get back. _

And still it didn't come.

Dean managed to get into a rhythm pulling the travois. He learned how to avoid bumps and roots that would catch the sled and jar his brother. He knew they weren't going very fast or very far. The tension was still building in him, making him jump at every sound, react to each movement off the trail. _Where is it? Why hasn't it come? Why? _He stopped, there was something on the path in front of him, blocking his way. _I don't remember that being there. _He slipped the strap off his shoulders.

"Sam, there's a log across the path, I'm going to have to move it." Sam nodded. "You ok?" Sam nodded again. "Not really, huh?"

Dean stepped away and looked at the log. _Hard to move with only one hand. Funny that left arm still works, but not the hand. _He leaned against the log and shifted it off the path. There was something else there, behind that log. _I bet that goes with the head. _Dean dragged the bloody torso away. _Nice, I wonder if it is doing it in reverse, head, torso and then feet and hands? _

"All taken care of Sam," his brother's eyes were closed. "You there?" He said keeping his voice light, aware now of the fear in his chest, resting there against his breastbone like a coiled snake.

Sam opened his eyes and looked at him. "Ok, Dean." No sound, just a slight movement of his mouth.

Dean picked up the travois again and began moving down the path. The forest was alive with sound, as if it had been silenced so often it now took every opportunity to burst out, to rejoice in those moments free of fear, free of it. A squirrel began chattering at him, and then a pinecone fell on his head. _That's it, next squirrel goes down. _He saw a tiny bird hopping in the bushes just to his left, small but filling the forest with sound.

And still it didn't come.

He kept going as long as he could. The travois was getting heavier and heavier. His leg was losing strength slowly. Still working, but the injured and sliced muscles were starting to refuse to carry the load. His back ached where it had held him down. His hand had lost all feeling and was just a dead thing on the end of his arm. And still he pulled. _Every foot is that much closer, to the car to safety to help for Sam. _

He had to stop, only for a minute he told himself. He carefully set his brother down and started a new torch. He sat down by Sam and put his hand on his brother's chest. He could feel the heartbeat under his palm, it felt fainter than it had the night before.

"I need to take a break for a minute, Sam," he said smiling at his brother. Sam opened his eyes. "You are going on a diet, dude. I am not dragging your heavy ass through the woods again." Sam rolled his eyes and Dean could see a hint of a smile there, he had a funny feeling what his brother meant, so he answered. "Bitch."

"I wonder how far we've gone?" He said. "It probably feels like further than it is," he laughed, Sam smiled with his eyes and raised his eyebrows a tiny bit. "Shut up." He looked at his brother. "Sammy?"

"Dean?" Just a movement, a tiny movement at that. And it took effort. Dean could see that. _He's fading, too fast, I wonder if it will start to wear off again? I wonder if there comes a point where it is too late? _

"We'll get going here in a minute," Dean said still talking. He was nervous, worried. The tension that had been building all morning had relaxed a little in the last hours, overshadowed by the effort of moving forward. "We need to start looking for someplace for the night. I think, though maybe by late tomorrow we should be out of here. It hasn't come back. I think it might have moved on."

And still it didn't come. _Please let it have moved on. _

He pulled himself up. "You ready?" He picked up the travois and started pulling again. _Yep, my leg is about to go. If I don't stop soon it won't be any good tomorrow and I have to keep moving. _He started watching for someplace to stop for the night. Looking for an overturned tree or _what did Sam call that big rock? Glacial erratic? Ok, I need a nice erratic rock. A nice big one. Somehow erratic kind of goes with us. _ He started up another hill. _Next hunt we are going someplace completely flat. A nice parking lot ghost. _

He made it to the top of the hill and just over. Then his leg folded. He went down hard, facedown onto the slope. _Well, time to stop for the night._ "I meant to stop here, Sam," he said dragging himself over to sit by Sam. "Nice view." Sam opened his eyes. "Well it is." Dean said smiling at him.

"I need to find someplace to make a shelter for the night, maybe a fire first, though. We can move it and there seems to be a lot of wood up here." He got up and took a little wood off the travois, making a fire by Sam. He got it going and looked around the hilltop for shelter. There wasn't much. The best he could do was a fairly large rock, not as large as the other, but enough to put his back against. He piled firewood around it and went to get Sam.

And still it didn't come.

He pulled his brother over to the rock and gently untied him from the travois. Dean propped him against the rock so he was sitting a little. Dean lit the fire, all around them again, the warmth working into over-used muscles. "I'm going to make us something warm to drink," he put the can in the fire and started heating up some water. "Hey, I got an idea. Surprised you didn't think of this, camping boy." Dean pulled the package of beef jerky out of the pack and cut it into small pieces, dropping it into the water.

"Check it out, beef stew, Sammy." He smiled at Sam. His brother kind of rolled his eyes. _God I don't want to know, but I have to ask. _"Can you swallow some?" Sam managed something that might have been a nod. Dean put the broth into their cup and held it for his brother. "Good, boy, Sammy." He made more for himself, leaning back onto the rock with a sigh.

The wind had come up, moving through the trees with a soft sighing whisper. The smell of the autumn woods rich. Dean fed the fire and put his hand on Sam. He leaned back against the rock, listening to the sound of the wind, of a bird singing a soft song from a tree, the chatter of a squirrel scolding something. Exhaustion and reaction set in, his body refused to go anymore, he drifted off to sleep listening to the sounds of the forest.

And still it didn't come.

The ache in his hand woke him an hour or so later. Bone deep, pulling against his flesh. He rubbed it with his right hand, and could feel nothing. He opened his eyes, the fire was still going but it had burned down. He fed it carefully and looked at Sam. His brother's eyes were open, he smiled a little.

"Sam?"

"Keeping watch," almost no sound, but something.

Dean grinned at him. "Thanks, Sammy. You want some more stew?"

"No."

"Ok, nice evening out there, isn't it?" Dean could still hear birds in the trees. "Really nice. I think it might be gone. We'll get you out of here and all fixed. Sound good?"

Sam smiled at him. "Yeah."

"Good," he leaned back against the rock, back so he was in contact with his brother. Dean sighed. _We just might make it out of here. I was beginning to get little worried about our chances. _He watched a deer walk over the crest of the hill down from them. Cautious, but not afraid. The squirrels were finally quiet, the forest was moving into night. The sun cast red light through the trees, bathing the ground in a blood colored glow. The wind had stopped. Dean could hear a bird call, from far off in the forest. A coyote yipped. The sound embraced him gently, he sighed again and smiled at Sam.

And a scream ripped the night open, tearing into the forest like claws into flesh.

Not human, not animal, the shriek rolled over the hill like a great wave, bringing fear, bringing silence. The silence was abrupt, as if it the soft calls of the animals had been torn from their throats, torn from the forest.

It was coming.

Dean listened to the silence, listened to the nothing around him. He threw more wood on the fire, creating a blazing half circle around them. The fire cracked and popped casting light around them, into the silent dark.

It was coming.

He could hear the sighing grunt. Approaching. He could hear it snarling. It was coming up the hill. Seeking them in the silent forest. He could hear it moving, shifting through the leaves. It was getting close. He could hear the soft sighing purr now. He saw the shadow shape slide through the trees, oozing from darkness to darkness.

It was coming.

Dean could sense it, in the underbrush, watching him. Waiting. Its soft sighing breath filling the tiny clearing with menace. It moved, shifting around in back of him. He could feel it there, waiting, watching, sniffing the air, seeking their scent, finding it and liking what it found. It sighed, a purring content. Dean grabbed a branch and lit a torch.

Something exploded in the fire in front of him. A hand slowly charring, the fingers curved as if clinging to something, curved like claws slowly blackening in the fire. And to his left, beside Sam, a rock rolled through the fire, scattering it, but not extinguishing it. Dean shoved his brother behind him. Pushing Sam against the rock. Standing in front of his brother, trying to block him from it.

It was coming.

Dean heard it, coming up fast, so fast he couldn't react. He tried to see out beyond the blaze, out to the dark where it was moving. The forest was dark. And from nowhere something hit him, pulling him from the shelter, pulling him from the fire. He was thrown out into the dark, dazed by the impact, trying to push himself erect

It was there.

He was pushed to the ground, the great weight on his back, holding him down. He couldn't move, couldn't push himself free from that weight. It held his head, pressed into the soft yielding forest floor. He could hear it, sighing, snarling and then the purr of pleasure. Something gently touched his ankle then bit down, tearing into flesh, shattering bone. He screamed and it purred, gently lapping at his leg. The weight shifted and something slammed into his head. Then like the forest he, too, fell silent.

The sounds of the night were awake around him. Dean groaned and pushed himself over. He sat up, his head aching, one eye closed by clotted blood. He looked at his right leg. _Well at least it left me a foot. That was kind. _He looked towards their shelter.

And he knew, even without being able to see clearly though the fire dancing around the rock. He knew without a doubt and fear was there, in his heart, filling his body with cold, numbness, mind-killing pain. The fear filled him, but it was overshadowed, even in its great awakening, there was something that was there, stronger, feeding the fear. Grief filled him, erupted out of him in a yell, a scream. His brother's name.

_It's taken Sam._

_**To Be Continued**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Screaming For Vengeance**

Chapter Six

Dean tried to stand, his ankle wouldn't take his weight. He crawled across to their shelter, hoping Sam was there, knowing he wasn't. A long bloody smear went up and over the rock as if something had been pulled over, leaving the trail of blood behind as a mark of the violence of the act.

"SAM!" He yelled into the night, not knowing how long he had been unconscious, not knowing how far it would take his brother from him this time. "SAM!" Not knowing if his brother was alive or dead. He pulled himself through the fire, into their shelter. It wasn't safe there, not now, not like this. He was desperate to follow it, to follow Sam, but he knew he had to treat that ankle. He was going into shock. Dean piled wood behind him, at the base of the rock and lit it.

He pulled the first aid kit out of the pack and looked into it and looked down at his ankle. _Not really sure there is anything in the kit to deal with that. When it took Sam it bit into his arm, but didn't break the bone. It wanted to cripple me. I guess it figured that its last attempt didn't really work. _He pulled up his pant leg, looking at the damage. _Nice. Really nice. What do I do?_ He sighed, feeling dizzy, lightheaded. His left hand was starting to tingle a little, but he still couldn't use it.

"_Ok, Dean," his father said looking at him. "You're out on the hunt, compound fracture what do you do?"_

"_Call 911?" Dean smiled at his father and winked at Sam. His brother giggled._

"_Not funny Dean. Ok, we are out on the hunt, and Sam is hurt, compound fracture left ankle, what do you do?"_

"_Carry him?" Dean said. Sam laughed "piggy back" his brother had whispered._

_His father was angry, not in the mood to play that day. He slammed his hand down on the table. "This could be a matter of life or death for you or your brother Dean. What do you do?"_

_Dean thought about it. His father was right. "Sorry sir. Compound fracture ankle. Splint the break above and below. Do not attempt to move the bones. Treat the wound as any serious wound. Check victim for shock or signs of internal bleeding. Treat with painkillers if available, if needed. Evacuate the victim as soon as possible."_

"_Good, Dean. Remember that."_

"_Yes, sir."_

Dean found three straight sticks. He carefully loosened his boot and pushed the sticks in. He stopped and waited for the urge to scream to pass and then tightened the laces on the boot. It was almost impossible to tie one handed, but he managed. He pulled the other elastic bandage out of the first aid kit and after cleaning the bite as well as he could he bound the elastic around his lower leg. _And yes, that hurts. _He dug around in the first aid kit. _I think there are a couple of…found them._ He took a Tylenol 3. _I told Sammy, it is always worth filling a pain prescription. They can be handy. Especially when walking through the woods with a busted ankle. Sometimes I think we need to take a survival class or something. It would be nice to know what I could use out here for little problems like this. Maybe we'll do that when we get back into town, assuming the world doesn't get overrun by evil hordes or something before we can enroll. _

He lay back in the circle of fire. _I have to go after Sammy. I have to. Is that daylight? Can I have been out that long? _His eyes drifted closed of their own accord. He hovered half asleep, half unconscious for another hour, the pain pill slowly taking the sharpest edge from his pain. Finally he opened his eyes and sat carefully up.

The sun had risen. The day was bright, a golden reflection of the leaves on the ground. The birds had started their morning chorus. The wind was blowing, warmer than it had been, the woods drying out in the warmth.

Dean sighed, reaching without thinking for the water bottle. When he got it in his hand he stopped. _I'll be damned, it's working again. That will help, I'll need a crutch and a torch. I should retrieve our rope from the travois. I can make another, but I'll need the rope. _He pushed himself up, nearly falling again when he put pressure on his ankle. _Oh this just gets better and better. Never ever ever ever going into the woods again. I don't care what is out there. Never for no one._

He found a branch large enough to use as a crutch and started tearing the travois apart. He put everything back in the pack, picked up his torched and started slowly after it, after Sam.

The trail was easy to follow. Sam was big enough to leave a deep track in the soft mud as he was dragged along. Over the rocky stretches Dean followed the blood, the dark stain against the light stones. He stopped and rested and moved on, each step agony, driven to continue, driven to find Sam. _I hope he's alive. Oh, god, I hope that's the right hope to have. _And he walked on. The forest full of sound around him. And he waited for it to return. He knew it would.

**XXX**

It had finally stopped, somewhere miles from where it had started. He could hear it, breathing, close around him. The miles had been a blur of pain, of partial consciousness. Then it left him, heading away from him. Headed back up the trail. He knew what it was looking for. He knew what it was doing. It was checking on his brother, it was checking on Dean.

Sam tried to move, tried to get away. But his body refused to respond. He could feel more, feel his chest again, he could make small noises, actual noises and he could make the muscles in his arms contract. He couldn't feel his arms, really, he couldn't actually move them, but he was beginning to hope it was wearing off. Maybe he could gather enough strength to get away. He still was unmoving when it was there, but he was slowly gathering his strength. There was a problem with that, though, and it might be considered a big problem.

He was blind.

He didn't know why. He didn't know if it was some new action of the poison or if blood had poured out of a head wound, out of his face somewhere and had glued his eyelids together. He couldn't wipe his eyes to find out. _And be honest with yourself, Sam. You don't even know if you could open your eyes. Just because you can feel your face more. _He sighed. _I am never going into the woods again. I don't care, never stepping one foot outside of civilization ever again. _

_I wonder if it killed Dean, if that's what it's checking on. I heard him scream in pain and it takes a lot to get that out of Dean. He might have just been pissed, but it sounded like pain to me. _He was slowly becoming aware of his shoulders again. It was easier to breath. He could feel his chest, actually feel his chest and he was warming up a little.

Then the birds stopped singing. It became silent. Something ran from him, he heard the tiny animal's desperate flight away from where it approached. Sam held still, unmoving, unwilling to let it know that he was slowly recovering. He heard it now, sighing softly, a snarl in its breath, moving almost silently. The only sound was the movement of the things it moved passed. It was silent, except for the breath.

It stopped, Sam knew it was close. His muscles tensed, an involuntary reaction to its proximity. He heard it sniff, then sniff again. It came closer, the sigh was almost on top of him. Something sharp carefully prodding him in the chest. Reflex betrayed him. It moved away and then came close again. Sam felt it that time, slow and deliberate. It carefully pushed a claw, a single claw, deep into the area by his neck. Deep, injecting something so slowly, so carefully, as if gauging how much was needed. He felt cold creep out from that claw, he felt the ache, the pain in his bones, he felt his muscles shutting down again. It stood over him, sighing, then purring, a terrifying sound. Waiting, waiting.

He was starting to lose awareness when it pulled the claw out, moved away. It was on his right side. He sensed it by his right hand. He could still feel the tiniest bit there, he could feel the wound it had made that first night dragging him through the forest.

So he was aware, though only just, when it picked the hand up, tugging on it. He could feel pressure. It was like a dream as it stood there, purring, pleased, grunting softly. There was another pressure, harder and a violent tug. It was happy.

And Sam realized what it must have done. The realization exploded through him violently. He screamed in protest, he screamed for the pain that should have been there, he screamed soundlessly into the silent forest.

And it moved away.

**XXX**

The trail had narrowed to a tiny focus the drag marks, the blood, the unending pain. Each step moving him along, each step agony, mental and physical. The worry for Sam, the fear for his brother was as painful—more torturous in fact—than the shattered ankle. He stopped again, sitting on a stump beside the trail. He pulled out one of the last five pain pills. _I have to take it, I don't want to but I have to keep going. I'll just wait here for a minute or two till it takes effect. Just a minute or two. Ok, maybe three._

A squirrel ran halfway down a tree across from him and started yelling at him, complaining of his presence, complaining that he hadn't brought an offering.

"Shut up," he said. "I think I hate squirrels. All of you—you're nothing but rats in disguise you know." _Ok, and now I am talking to the squirrels, might be losing my mind a tiny bit._ The squirrel continued to harangue him. He fished around in the pack and found a stale peanut at the bottom and threw it in the general direction of the tree. The squirrel ran down, grabbed it and ran back up again. "And don't even think about bugging me for more."

The squirrel finished his peanut and started in on Dean again. He laughed and dug around in the pack, a few chips that had escaped their bag and few more couple of peanuts. He tossed another peanut out. "Cause you are going to have to work for it." The squirrel came down, grabbed the nut and hopped onto a rock across from him. It was watching him. Dean threw a chip at it, the squirrel ran a few feet and then came back and sat happily eating the chip. He tossed another and another. The squirrel was almost at his feet when he was down to his last peanut. "This is it, I'm out of squirrel food." _Of course, now it will probably hunt me down to see if that's true. Yep, losing my mind, maybe more than a tiny bit._

Suddenly the squirrel dropped his peanut. It squeaked, a terrified sound and ran from him, ran past the tree, into the woods out of sight. Silence began to descend on the forest. Dean stood carefully leaning on his crutch holding the torch in front of him. The silence moved slowly, as if the sounds were slowly being snuffed out by it, by its passage. It was coming from the trail in front of him. The forest was still full of sound behind him, but even that was dying like the last embers in a fire.

He could hear it now, breathing, the soft sighing breath approaching him slowly. The bushes were beginning to sway, reacting to its presence, almost as if they were trying to pull away as it moved through them. The soft snarling breath was getting closer, it paused, sniffing him. Sighing softly to itself, waiting watching. It barked, the sharp sound, and it moved away. Back through the forest, back the way it had come.

Dean stood on the path, listening to its retreat, listening as the forest started to sing again. The sounds were muted, though, as if the creatures that resided there were cautious, even afraid of its return. Dean began to walk again. One step and another, down another hill, up the other side. At the top two trails branched off.

He followed the drag makes on the trail to his left. The branches were broken, showing where something had been pulled through them. He continued walking, watching the trail, watching the bushes on either side. The path opened up into a small clearing, there was something there, in the center of that circle.

Dean threw himself awkwardly forward, hopping, barely balanced on the crutch. "NO!"

He reached the legless body, his heart pounding, his mouth dry. He turned it over. _Not Sam, not Sam, not Sam. _His leg gave out and he sank to the ground beside the gruesome mass. _This is what it was dragging. It led me here. Nice, wild goose chase. Now I have to go all the way back and start again down the other path. _

He pulled himself up, each time was getting a little harder to go on, each step more forced, each moment robbing him a little of strength of even sanity. The was nothing but the trail, the pain, the drive to find his brother and the terrible thought—_should I hope to find him alive or hope that he…No, I can't. He's alive and we will get out of in one piece. God I hope in one piece._

Back up the trail, back up the hill to the fork there. He looked down the other pathway, leading into a dark tunnel of hazel, closed off on both sides. He leaned against a tree for a moment, gathering his strength to continue down the path. Taking a deep breath Dean pushed himself off and began walking again.

He could hear the squirrels busy in the bushes, gather nuts. A bird, bright blue and black, was hopping in the branches calling to its mate. Dean moved along the dim path. The weight of the pack was beginning to tug at him, pulling on him, slowing him down when he wanted—needed—to go faster. He nearly left it more than once, but he knew that would be a mistake and something it would want him to do.

"So, no matter what it wants? Not leaving the pack," he said to the squirrels around him. _Stupid squirrels. _

The forest was growing colder, rain clouds had come up again. The late afternoon sun was beginning to fade. And with the sun the sounds were slowly extinguishing, silence was descending. Dean looked around him. He was still on the closed in path, the hazel standing like walls on either side of him.

He could hear it. And what he heard terrified him, he didn't know why, but it did. It was very pleased with itself, the soft breath purring like a contented kitten as it approached. It was ahead of him, out where the hazel tunnel opened into the forest. He saw the dark shadow as it blocked the light and them moved on. He could hear it in the clearing, moving, shifting leaves and branches—it sounded busy almost.

Something was seriously wrong.

Dean walked faster, trying to push out of that closed trail, trying to reach the clearing. It was purring, snarling, moving off to the edge of the trees, just out of sight, standing there, waiting, sniffing the air.

Dean slowed down. _It wants something from me. What? It's waiting for me to go out there. _He walked slowly into the clearing. There was still a patch of sun falling on the leaves, making it brighter, the yellow glow bathing the clearing with a soft light. It was beautiful. Except for the silence, except for that soft purring breath, except for…

Dean walked to the stump in the center of the clearing. He looked down. _No. _He knew why it had led him there, the thought filling him with dread, with fear, robbing him of sanity, tearing him apart.He looked down again.

It was a hand.

Long tapered fingers, above a broad palm and on the bloody torn wrist, a black bracelet. Dean looked again, tears filling his eyes. He reached out and carefully picked it up. He dug a hole and buried the remains of what had been his brother's hand.

Dean stood there over that small grave for several long moments. He could hear it, softly grunting, purring as it scented the air, as it read the fear in his heart, the terror that had taken his mind. It filled him completely, his heart was pounding. He looked down at the blood left there by his brother's hand, he thought of the trail he had followed all day, he thought of Sam, poisoned, helpless, unable to even speak.

And he knew, knew without a doubt, the realization moving through him, filling him—the coiled snake of fear wakes, reaching out through his body, his mind filled with visions of his brother, with the sound of that breath, the emptiness of silence, that shadow shape slipping through the forest.

_It's trying to drive me insane with this._

_And it's working._

_**To Be Continued**_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Just a little reminder that I don't write death fic. I would like to thank Abni for amazing patience, truly meaningful insight and care!_

**Screaming for Vengeance**

Chapter Seven

Dean stood there, listening to the sound of it in the trees, listening to it waiting. He could see that dark shape swaying, slightly, like a child. It was watching him. He could feel it there, just beyond the trees, the silence complete except for that soft sigh. It waited another breath and another and he saw the shadow slip away.

He stood there, waiting for the sound to begin. The silence dragged on and on as if the forest was grieving with him. The rain began, gentle drops, falling all around him. It was growing dark and the sounds of night starting slowly, building from a whisper to a conversation all around him.

Still he stood looking at the small mound. His leg finally gave way under him. _Sam! He could be bleeding to death, his hand, oh my god, he'll bleed to death. _He dragged himself up, looking into the forest around him. _Which way? _He forced his legs to move again. _I have to get to Sam. _One step and another and his body refused to go any further. He collapsed to the ground by a huge log, the remains of an ancient tree.

He reached out and scooped wood in front of him, his torch had burned low, he shoved the guttering torch into it. The fire started. The blaze warming the small hollow under the log. _At least I had the torch. I'm not sure how brilliant I would actually be starting from scratch_. It was his last conscious thought.

"_Dean?" His eight year old brother was shouting at him. "Dean! Hey, Dean."_

"_What Sammy?" He said stepping out of the hotel room._

"_Look what I found," he held baseball in his grimy hand, mostly ruined, the stitches pulling out. "You want to play catch?"_

Dean shifted, his ankle was aching, his head hurt.

"_Have you see that that new exchange student Dean?" Sam asked him one night._

"_The one from Denmark? Yeah, Sammy, hot, definitely hot."_

"_She's giving private piano lessons, think I can pull it off?" Sam said cracking his knuckles and smiling at him._

He woke a little and fed the fire, without thought, without even registering he was awake.

"_Hold still Dean, I can't finish with you squirming like that," Sam said, putting his hand on Dean's knee to keep him still._

"_Just finish, Sam. Ok? I won't move again." He said watching his brother sew up his leg._

_Sam smiled and went back to work._

Dean shifted again, the dreams keeping him from relaxing all the way. _God, Sam, I'm sorry. _He fed the fire again. It was late, the sounds those of the middle of the night, an owl, a hunting coyote. Beyond his fire it was inky black, nothing visible beyond the firelight, not even the light colored rocks. He allowed himself to sleep again.

And the forest fell silent, the sounds stopping suddenly, completely, snuffed out like a candle. And still he slept, exhausted in mind and body. The soft sighing breath filled the forest, filled the clearing where Dean rested, the soft grunting snarl reaching out in the darkness. And still he slept. It sniffed the air, scenting him, knowing he was there more unconscious than asleep.

It slid out of the trees, moving across the clearing dark against dark, unseen, unnoticed. It moved silently around the log, pausing, watching the man asleep there in the firelight. It sighed, the snarling breath soft. It slid over the top of the log and moved one claw slowly down, reaching out to the sleeping figure. It stopped as he shifted in his sleep and then moved forward again, reaching, reaching, finding its mark.

Dean was pulled from his sleep by the touch of that claw. It pushed into him, by his shoulder, he tried to pull away, tried to see what held him there but he couldn't move. He could feel something moving out from that claw, his awareness began to dim, not all the way gone, but so close it didn't matter.

It was satisfied. It withdrew the claw and slipped back into the silent darkness.

The fire was out, the sunlit morning full of sound. Dean opened his eyes. _And that was one hell of a nightmare. Fire's out, great, Dean, good job. _He reached for the pack—and his arm wouldn't move. He tried again, his arm was still there, he could see his hand and he could feel the cold, the deep ache in his bones, but that was all. _It wasn't a nightmare. Why? Why did it do that and not take me, not kill me? _

He stopped, the realization a violent thing, hitting him like a physical blow. _It's taken one arm. I can't carry a torch and use a crutch. It knew what it was doing. Oh, god, it knows what its doing. _And the thought of that, the intelligence behind that act, behind them all, chilled him, sent silent terror through him like the shadow shifting through the night.

He pulled out one of the last chocolate bars. _No, I'll save that, Sammy will need something when I find him. I'll have water and get going._

He put the can on the remains of the fire, the still warm coals. The warm water revived him a little and he started to get up. His ankle was aching, the other leg with the slash was beginning to throb. His head hurt. _Once I find Sam,_ _I'm going to need a fire and those clouds coming up look like rain. _He pulled a zip lock bag out of the pack and dug around under the log, gathering dry pine needles and small branches. _Not much, but it should help. _

He dragged himself out from under the log and managed to get the pack on. He picked up his crutch and looked around the clearing. _Which way? _He walked around the edge of the circle, finding the place where it had stood, watching him after he found Sam's hand. He could see where the leaves and branches had been disturbed on a path just to the left of where it had waited. He began down that trail.

It was wet in the woods, the sun making the path steam and it warmed the ground around him. There was a shimmering rainbow hovering above the undergrowth, touching the forest with its soft glow. The little creatures were active that morning, Dean could hear myriad rustlings in the bushes. _Great all the cute furry animals doing cute furry things. _He saw another one of the bright blue and black birds. _Those are cool, I need to find out what they are. _

Dean dragged himself slowly along. It was getting hard to keep going. His arm ached, bone deep. _God, Sam, was it like this for you? Your whole body? _He saw a fallen tree and leaned against it for a minute, shifting the weight off of his ankle.

He heard something behind him and he froze, listening. Still the birds were singing, he relaxed. A squirrel started up, complaining. "I'll move in a minute, it's not like you own the log," Dean said looking around at it._ And I'm talking to the squirrels again. I wonder if that one from yesterday told them I had food and now they are all going to bug me? And yes, Dean, you're losing it._

He sighed, trying to see through the thick forest around him. _How far yet to go? And how am I going to get Sam to safety when I find him? I can't pull a travois anymore, I can't carry him, how? What exactly does it want? _He pulled himself erect again and started back down the trail. _I don't even know if this is the right way. _

The path closed in again, bushes thick on either side. Dean sighed, the feeling of walls all around him was beginning to make him claustrophobic. _Hey, wait, what are those? Those look like…_He looked at the bush, bright shiny leaves with frosted blue berries on them. _Are those what I think they are? _He picked one of the berries and put it carefully in his mouth. _It's a blueberry I think, tastes like one. _He fished around in the pack and pulled out the beef jerky bag. He poured the jerky into the pack and started filling the package with the berries. _It's something. _He ate several handfuls before finishing filling the bag, putting it back in the pack and starting down the trail again.

It was late morning and the rain clouds were gathering in the western sky. Dean had stopped again to rest his leg. And silence descended. The only noise left throughout the woods the whisper of the wind. He knew it was coming.

That soft grunting sigh slowly grew, at first just a hint of sound, then growing, filling the silent woods. He could hear the bushes moving with its passage. It was getting close, somewhere off the trail to his right. He could just make out that shadow, the moving darkness sliding from tree to tree. It stopped for a minute then shifted forward, watching the trail in front of him.

Dean walked slowly forward, wondering what it wanted, wondering why it watched. The sound of its breath coming from all around him. In front, in back, the sound playing tricks with his mind in that closed in area. There was a bend in the path, a blind corner, he walked around it. _No. _Sam's jacket, bloody, hanging from a branch. Dean pulled it down and looked at it. _He'll need it when I find him. _He pulled the pack up and rolled the jacket so he could stuff it in the small space. _And rolling things? Not easy with one arm. _He leaned over to put it in the pack.

And it came.

He didn't hear it until it was too late, couldn't react in time. It exploded onto the path behind him, struck him down and disappeared back into the shadowed forest. Dean tried to push himself up. His back was burning, he could feel the warmth of blood running down from the wounds it had carved along his spine. He got himself up and tried to settle the pack on his back. It was agony. _I have to keep the pack, it wants me to leave it. Why is it doing this? I think it is playing a nice game of cat and mouse, but why? Doesn't matter, I have to keep going, I have to find Sam. _He got the pack on, the crutch back under his arm. He took a step, and another, and another, and another.

_I have to keep going, I have to find Sam. I have to keep going, I have to find Sam._

**XXX**

Sam was cold. He hurt. That was the extent of his physical reality. Breathing took an effort he never imagined and he was sure his heart was beating only once every minute.

_I think I'm dying. _

It had come back, he heard it, purring happily. It had rolled him over, tugging at him. He felt a pressure on his neck and it had stood over him, grunting, sniffing, and then left him alone.

_I wonder if it took my other hand? Or my arm? _

It was getting colder every moment. The effort to breath, the effort to stay there was becoming enormous.

_I have to stay, Dean will find me. If he's alive. God, I hope he's alive. _

His heart beat, he felt it, he drew a breath. Colder, colder.

_Why did it do this to me? It paralyzed me but didn't really hurt me until it took my hand. I wonder if I'm bleeding to death? It hurt Dean, but didn't paralyze him. Why did it take me? Why did it want me and not Dean? _He stopped. And suddenly realized what it was doing, what it wanted, why it took him. The realization filled him with dread, with fear for his brother.

_It doesn't want me, it wants Dean. I'm bait._

And he got colder, colder. It was as if the ground beneath him was slowly pulling his life into the cold earth.

_Dean, Dean be careful. Don't come for me, that's what it wants._

And the cold finally took him. He felt a beat, he took a breath and then it was silent, like the forest when the shadow shape moved through it. There was nothing, even the pain was gone, just silence.

**XXX**

The path stretched forever in front of Dean. Each step moving him a tiny bit forward, each step taking a little more from him. He was wearing out. The tension—the fear—was beginning to cloud everything. It had come back, twice. Watching, waiting, playing with him. _I have to go on, I have to find Sam._

A log was moved onto the path in front of him. Dean had to climb over coming down hard on the shattered ankle. A rock had rolled down a long hill, gaining momentum, nearly knocking him down. He waited for several long minutes before starting up the hill.

He could hear it there, just beyond the crest, it was waiting for him, it was purring its kitten purr. He could sense its anticipation. He didn't want to go on, he didn't want to know what was there. _I have to go on, I have to find Sam._

He reached the top of the hill. Sam's boot, bloody, was there on a rock, the dark blood staining the stone, staining the bright golden leaves. He could see the dark shape, waiting, swaying. He picked up the boot. _At least there is not a foot in it, that's something I guess. _

Evening was coming rapidly. The rain that had been threatening all day had begun to fall. Dean knew he had to stop. The game it had played with him all day had finally taken its toll, he couldn't go on. _I have to keep moving, I have to find Sam. _Down from the crest of the hill was a huge rock. _An erratic, right, Sam?_ He hobbled slowly towards it and put the pack under the overhang. _It will be dark tonight, I won't be able to see what it puts in my path. Oh, god, I could walk right past Sam and not even know he was there. I have to wait until it is light—or the moon comes out._

Still it watched.

He began to gather firewood, hoping he could actually get a fire started with his dry kindling from the pack. _Gather isn't really the right word for this, I don't think._ He pushed another few pieces of wood towards the rock with his foot.

Still it watched.

It took nearly an hour to gather enough wood for the night. He was exhausted when he was done, the last few trips taking everything he had left. Finally he sat and tried to get the fire going. Once, twice, on the third try one of the larger sticks caught, in fifteen minutes he had a fairly good blaze going.

And it moved away.

Dean heard the forest begin to wake up, it had been silent most of the day and the sounds around him were muted, everything was waiting for the return, everything knew it would come back. Dean leaned back, letting the warmth of the fire wash over him. His eyes closed, he dozed.

The fire had burned down when he woke, he fed it and sat listening. _That must be what woke me._ The forest had grown silent again. And he could hear it, approaching. There was another sound, it was dragging something—something large. Dean could hear that clearly. It was coming from behind him, from down the hill, he could hear whatever it was dragging snagging on branches then the sharp gunshot snap as it broke loose. On and on, up the hill.

Dean fed the fire and waited, his heart pounding. The slow approach was agonizing. The grunting snarl was still soft, sighing as it approached. It stopped, Dean heard it sniff, and then move on.

Closer, closer, closer. The breath came. The sound of what it was pulling with it sliding across the forest, the sound somehow ominous in that silent dark night.

It was behind him, close now, on the rock. He could hear it over his head. Grunting, sighing. It stopped, he knew it was there, right over him, close enough to touch almost. He slowly slid the gun out of his holster, waiting for it to reach down, waiting for it to attack.

And still it waited. The soft sigh above him, the soft breath filling him. It waited, grunting. The sound was beginning to drive Dean to a place of madness, trapped, helpless with it waiting above him. And still it waited.

The bark, sharp, deafening, filled the forest. It waited, sniffing, scenting him. The snarling, rasping breath above him. Waiting. And then it screamed, that horrifying scream, not human, not animal.

Dean's heart was pounding, his hand was shaking. _Come on, what are you waiting for? Come on. Just get it over with. _ The soft sigh, a snarling breath, scenting the air. It barked again, the sound hitting Dean like a physical blow, painful, bruising,

And then it was silent. No sound of breath, no bark, silent as if were holding its breath for an instant. Dean heard it move, heard something slide along the rock above him.

And something dropped into the fire, something large. Dean reacted to that shape before it was even a coherent thought. He threw himself into the fire and rolled Sam out. They rolled into the dark night, the inky black. Dean was beside Sam and it came, moving through the night, it was behind him, it forced him down, he felt the claws, felt the teeth and it was gone, moving back into the night, back into the trees.

It stopped. It was waiting.

Dean dragged himself, dragged Sam, back to the edge of the fire. He kicked the fire apart long enough to drag Sam into the shelter, then quickly built the fire back up.

And still it was waiting, breathing softly out in the dark night.

Dean looked down at Sam and sank to the ground beside his brother, sighing with relief. "Sammy, you have both hands. You have both hands. They're both there. Thank god, I thought…" He pulled his brother up against him. Holding him gently. "Thank god, Sam."

His relief was short lived.

Sam was cold. Ice cold.

Dean waited for a breath. It didn't come.

He felt desperately for a heartbeat. There wasn't one.

"No, no Sam. No." Grief, fear, panic. "Sam? Sammy? Come on."

And the realization filled him, the fear now complete, awake, the grief making his chest ache, driving tears, unbidden from his eyes. The fear, the screaming grief started something new, small, burning slowly like the tiny tinder sparking a fire. Slowly, slowly, feeding off his grief, his fear and terror, it grew stronger, it started to warm him. The flame of rage was beginning to awaken, burning all else away.

_It's me, it's trying to take everything from me._

_You killed my brother._

_You just made a mistake._

_**To Be Continued**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Screaming for Vengeance**

Chapter Eight

It was still out there, beyond the fire light in the black night, sighing, scenting the air. Dean knew it was there. He could sense its pleasure, he could hear the soft purr, filling the dark forest.

_Its happy about this, its happy Sam is dead. Oh, god, Sammy. _"I'm coming for you," he shouted into the dark night, shouted at the shadow lurking in the forest. _This ends soon. I will end it, I will end you. _His hand was shaking, he could feel his heart pounding, thudding in his chest. _Sam. It has taken Sam from me. _He could still hear it there, it was happy as it waited, purring softly. He looked down, the rage still there.

And suddenly it didn't matter.

All that mattered was Sam.

He gently laid his brother's body down. "Oh, god, Sammy, you're a mess." He found the remains of a paper towel and wet it. He carefully cleaned off his brother's face, dribbling water over his eyes, removing the clotted blood that covered his eyelids. He cleaned the wound—a new wound—on Sam's neck. It looked like it had been deliberately sliced open. Last he turned to the right arm. The bandage had been torn away and with it the bracelet. Dean poured water on it and wiped it off. _Funny, it looks almost like it's still bleeding. I have to stop that. _He re-bandaged the arm, gently, carefully as if Sam could wake and feel it.

_Oh, god, Sam, I'm sorry. _

Lost in his grief at first he didn't notice, didn't hear, that soft sigh getting closer. It was approaching again, he could hear it sliding through the leaves. The soft sighing grunt getting closer again. Snarling softly, as if talking to itself. The sound moved behind him, it was coming over the rock again. He could hear the claws scratching against the surface of the stone. It stopped above him. It was there, sighing, sniffing, swaying in the night as if were moved by the breeze.

Dean looked up, tried to see beyond the light of the fire into the dark night. He could see the shadow there, black against the night sky. The shadow shape moved, Dean sensed that it had shifted, looking down at him. He could feel its eyes on him, touching him, moving over him, lighting on his brother. It was a physical sensation almost, tangible, touchable. It sighed softly, it wasn't happy. Dean wasn't sure how he knew that, but he was sure.

It slid down from the rock, out of his sight. He could hear it moving around the rock, moving to the side closer to Sam. He tensed and pulled his brother's body back behind him, shoving the limp form safely into the cover of the rock.

He caught movement, just at the edge of their shelter, just at the edge of the fire. The claws came seeking around the side of the rock, reaching to where Sam had been, looking for his brother.

"No, you don't get him this time," Dean said and pulled a branch from the fire, stabbing it towards those claws. He connected with it, briefly touching those claws, lighting them, he could see them—curved, covered with the remains of blood and flesh. It pulled away and stood in the darkness.

It screamed. The sound built slowly until it was deafening, filling the shelter, the clearing, the forest with a sound of fury, of hate. It was angry. It was a battle cry, the death knell of a thousand armies. It was furious and the object of its rage knew that, knew it would come for him and soon.

It stopped the terrible sound and stood swaying, waiting. Sighing softly again. Dean was afraid and it knew that, the fact pleased it as it stood there. It sighed again, snarling, and moved away, the dark shape fading into starless night.

Dean collapsed. He crawled over to Sam and gently turned his brother's body over, propping Sam's head on his leg. "I don't think it will be back for awhile," Dean said. "And if it does I don't think it will be in the mood to just stand out there breathing at me." He laughed softly and looked down at Sam, the laugh died in his throat.

_I can't do this again, Sam. I can't. _

He put his hand down on Sam's chest and leaned back against the rock.

Dean sighed, a memory had come unbidden, unstoppable. His brother, sick, home from school asking for soup, asking Dean to sit with him, watch TV "for only a minute or two." He could see him there, smiling, waiting for Dean to sit down. _He always wanted my hand on his chest when he was sick, said it kept him warm. _His hand was cold on his brother's chest. _This isn't the way it's supposed to be, Sam. _

He was nearly asleep, drifting along the edge of a nightmare full of sighing purrs and the memories of his brother. Consciousness was slipping away, pulled from him, exhaustion filling him. He didn't even notice the tears flowing down his face as he rested his hand on his brother's lifeless body. He closed his eyes and let sleep, let the painless dark come to him.

And he felt something. _What was that? My mind is playing tricks with me._

He began to drift off again. The sounds of the night had returned and were lulling him to sleep, their noise the sound of safety of peace in the woods. A coyote yipped nearby and for the first time he thought he heard what could be a wolf in the far far distance. An owl was calling from a tree outside the ring of firelight, and another bird call sounded, different than the owl, singing softly in the night. Dean sighed.

And he felt something. Feather soft, fluttering against his hand.

He opened his eyes. His brother was cold, the warmth of life gone from him. _But I thought I felt…Sam?…_Dean was still, unmoving as his brother, he held his breath for long seconds, waiting, waiting.

And he felt something, a tiny beat against his palm, the smallest movement of his brother's chest.

Dean put his head against Sam's chest, listening, waiting. The seconds slowly ticked by. _Too many, too many. _He was just about to sit up, just about to blame it all on the madness that had consumed him since he realized his brother was cold, limp, lifeless. Just about to pull away, when he heard it. A single beat, he thought he could hear the inhale, barely enough air, but something. He stayed that way, counting the seconds. Another beat, slow, laborious, but there. He didn't move, the seconds moved on, and another beat.

He sat up, looking down at Sam. His brother was cold. Lifeless. But that beat told Dean something else. _I think he's alive. I think he might be alive. Sam? SAM? _His brother's name screamed in his head, beat against his heart, hard, pounding. _I think he might be alive. _He pulled Sam's coat out of the pack, he grabbed the badly wrinkled and nearly destroyed emergency blanket and put them over Sam, carefully tucking in the coat over the blanket. _I wonder if warming him will help or hurt? If he's warm, if his heart beats faster will the poison spread again? But he's so cold, that deathly cold. I have to warm him, or the cold will kill him._

He put more wood on the fire. He leaned back again. _I think he might be alive. I wonder if that's why it was angry, why it tried to grab him again. Could it have thought he was dead or dying and then realized it made a mistake? Or was it playing with me again, using Sam as bait in the game? _Dean felt the first tingle of life in his arm, in the dead hand, like the first sigh of life from Sam. _He's alive. _The owl called again, Dean saw it fly silently past them, the wings seemingly huge lit by the firelight. Comforted by the faint beat, so slow, so far apart, but there under his hand. _ Sam's alive. _ He allowed himself to sleep.

He woke an hour later and fed the fire, trying to shift a little without disturbing Sam. _I need to get Sam to safety, I need to get him out of here. _Exhaustion was pulling him down, slowing his thoughts. _I have to get him out of here. I will tomorrow, I have to rest, I have to, sorry Sam._ The night was still alive with sound and he thought he could see stars beginning to break through the clouds. He sat looking up through the circle of light cast by the fire watching the sparks fly upward to meet in the sky until star and spark blended into one.

And suddenly the sound died all around him. It was a violent death that time, as if the forest had been caught unaware of its approach. Everything was silent. Nothing moved. It was getting closer again, beginning the game once more. Closer, over the edge of the hill, onto the rock. Its claws slowly scraping as it approached. It paused, not quite on top of them. The sharp bark, Dean realized it was a hunting call, letting its victims know that it was close, that it was ready, that it knew what it wanted.

It was moving again, closer to the edge, the soft sighing breath there above him. Snarling, grunting. The purr was gone, this was a different tone. Dean looked up, the shadow dark shape blotted out the stars as if it had pulled their light away. It stood there, he could see the slight movement as it swayed back and forth, watching, waiting, listening.

Dean thought he could hear something sliding down the rock. Something hard scraping like metal, slowly coming towards him. He looked up and thought he could see the curved claws there, like a spider's legs tucked in a crevasse. Those claws sliding slowly towards them. _Sam. It's trying to get Sam. _He moved over, shielding his brother with his body. _It's baiting me, but it doesn't matter._

He looked down at Sam and in that instant the claws shot down the side of the rock, latching onto him, digging in, pulling him up. Sam dropped heavily to the ground and that great strength pulled Dean up, dragging him over the edge of the rock. He tried to stop it, tried to grab onto something to stop his ascent. He tried to reach out with both hands trying to grab onto something anything, his numb hand refused to work.

It dropped him, his head connected with the stone, in his dim awareness, in the inky black night, he could see nothing. Something grabbed onto his wrist, teeth, pressing in, pulling him away from Sam, from the safety of the fire. It dragged him away, down the rock, out into the clearing, out into the night. And let go.

He heard it approach, felt the sharp claw as it gently prodded him, pulling back his collar, scraping along the back of his neck. Something pressed down on his shattered ankle. He cried out. It was moving away, down the hill, back into the night.

He didn't know how long he lay there, he knew that the night had begun to shift to day. He could hear a bird beginning to sing a welcome the sun. He was cold, he was worried the fire would be out, he needed to get back to Sam.

Finally Dean managed half crawl, half drag himself back across the clearing, back to the shelter of the rock. _I have to get back to Sam._ The fire was still burning a little. He got over it and into the circle of warmth. Dean fed the fire and waited until it blazed up again. He pulled Sam back onto his leg, put his hand against his brother's chest and let unconsciousness take him.

**XXX**

Sam was cold. He hurt. He thought he could hear the crackle of a fire. _Which if I'm dead isn't good. _The woods were silent and he could hear the grunting breath, it was above him, moving away from him out beyond the sound of the fire. _Maybe I'm alive. _He tried to open his eyes, nothing. _Not strong enough, I guess._

It was dragging something, he could hear the sound of it, sliding over the leaves. He listening to the soft sighing breath. It had stopped out there. Something cried out in pain. _That sounded almost like Dean. _It moved away, he listened as the sound of it disappeared, until the crackle of the fire seemed loud in the blanketing silence.

_I wonder where I am. I can hear a fire, I'm sure of it, and that sounded like Dean. Did Dean find me? I thought I was dead. Where am I? I can hear a fire, Dean must have found me, I'm alive. Dean found me. He's alive. _ He thought he could feel his heart beating, thought he could feel the inhale as his lungs struggled to draw enough air to keep him alive.

He heard something, faint at first, but getting closer, moving towards his sanctuary by the fire. It was coming through the silent forest, coming towards him.

Something terrible was coming, dragging slowly across the ground. It was groaning, it was in pain. It was getting closer whatever it was. It was right outside the sound of the dying fire. It came close to him, it was there, nearly on top of him. He heard the fire again, getting louder, he thought he could feel warmth on his face. Something lifted him. His head was gently propped on something. He felt a weight on his chest. He recognized that touch, and warmth moved out from his brother's hand.

_Dean?_

Comforted, safe—he allowed unconsciousness to reclaim him.

**XXX**

The sun was shining, warm on his face. He hurt. His hand was tingling with pin and needles. _Which would usually bug me, but since I can feel it, I'm pretty happy about it. _His ankle was swollen, painful. His back hurt, his head hurt. _And listen to me bitch. _He sighed, listening to the sound of life around him. The birds were busy and he heard the odd call of the blue and black bird. There was a squirrel chattering somewhere.

_Stupid squirrels are probably hunting me. As if having it hunting me down wasn't bad enough, now I'll have a bunch of freeloading squirrels after me as well. I wonder who'll get me first. I wonder which would be worse? Probably the damn squirrels, what a way to go. I could really use a cup of coffee. Hot water will have to do, I guess I could make blueberry tea—yeah, that might be tasty. Better even than coffee, yum. _

_I wonder what fun it has planned for today. Maybe it will bring some coffee before it pulls my leg off or something. That would be nice of it. You know, I might be a tiny bit delirious. I think we will just stay here today, gather our strength for the hike out. I need to figure out a way to keep it away from us. I wonder if I can raise a squirrel army? Maybe equip them with tiny flamethrowers? Maybe more than a little bit delirious. _He opened his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight. The light had the look of late morning, the sun was well up in the sky.

"Morning, Sam. I'll make something warm for you here in a minute," he said looking down at his brother. "After that I think we'll just hang out here for the day, I think that's best for both of us. I'm a little tired today." He laughed softly, getting out their not battered can and putting water in to heat. He leaned back to wait for the water to get hot. _I think I'll make a little chocolate. I think I need a little something more than just blueberries. Next time I go into the woods—never mind, never ever leaving civilization again._

He went to lean forward to grab the can and realized Sam's eyes were open. "Sam? Hey. Welcome back." He put his hand down on his brother's chest. Sam blinked, and Dean saw something else in his brother's eyes, panic, terror. "Sam? What?" Sam's eyes looked to the right and back up at Dean. "What?" Sam looked again. Realization hit Dean, hard. _He thinks it got his hand, he thinks his hand is gone…It will die for that, if nothing else it will die for letting him think that._ "Oh, my god, Sam, your hand? Your hand's there. It's there." He carefully picked the arm up and held Sam's hand in front of his eyes. "See? It just got your bracelet." Sam's eyes closed, a tear ran down Sam's cheek. "It's ok, Sam." Dean gently wiped the tear away. Sam opened his eyes, Dean could see a smile there.

"It's good to see you up," Dean said. Sam kind of rolled his eyes. "Ok, fine, awake, that's what I meant." Dean pulled the can out of the fire and poured the chocolate into a cup. "You think you could get some chocolate down?" Sam blinked. "Ok."

Dean picked Sam up, holding him against his chest. He tipped the cup up and waited until he saw Sam swallow. "Good job, more?" Sam blinked. Dean held the cup up again, and again. Sam got almost half the cup down before he stopped. Dean finished it. "We'll have more later, how's that? I found some blueberries yesterday, too. Maybe we'll have those for lunch." He put the cup down.

Sam was looking at him, Dean could see concern in his eyes. "I'm ok, Sammy. Just a little messy, you know. It kind of pulled me through the mud a little last night." Dean saw the concern turn to worry. "No, Sam, I'm ok. You should see yourself, dude. You are a royal mess. Muddy, scratched up, blood all over." Dean stopped, he could hear the catch in his voice, Sam did too, Dean saw it in his brother's eyes. "I know, but I might have been a little worried about you."

He leaned back, pulling Sam with him, putting his arm around his brother. "Shut up, I just don't want your head to bang on the rock and have you start bleeding or something, we're running out of bandages." He smiled at his brother. "I'm going to sleep for a few more minutes, it that ok with you?" The concern was still there in Sam's eyes. "I'm ok, Sam, I just haven't slept a lot in the last few days." Sam blinked. Dean closed his eyes. "Just a few minutes, Sammy."

He woke and fed the fire and slept again, checking on Sam. And again. The day was gradually dying around them. The sun slipping down in the sky. Night was coming and the nocturnal creatures were waking as those of the light moved into safety for the night

The silence woke him. _How long? _The fire had burned down. It was dark, the stars sparkling in the sky. He shifted Sam against the rock and fed the fire. He looked at his brother. Sam was watching him. "How long has it been quiet? I think it might be coming." Sam blinked. "I'm going to move you away from the rock, ok? It'll be harder to grab us then." Sam blinked. Dean pulled him closer to the fire.

It was coming.

He could hear its approach. He could hear it grunting, sighing, the soft snarl flowing around him, eddying on the breeze. It was sliding along in the trees, moving from shadow to shadow, a darker spot in the dark woods. It was coming closer, slowly closer, the breath sighing, grunting. Closer. He could see black shadow moving in the dim light cast by the stars. It was moving around them, back and forth, closer and closer, then further away.

Dean heard it coming, fast, moving towards them, barreling down on them, the approach violent, the silence complete except for its breath except for the sound of the leaves as it moved through them. Something exploded through the fire, scattering the burning branches.

The huge claws reached in, swiping at him, knocking him down. The claws found Sam and started pulling him away. Dean grabbed his brother, they were dragged out into the night. Dean tried to see what was there, pulling them through the night. It was moving too fast. It dropped Sam and moved around them. The huge weight pressed him down, pressed Dean's face into the mud. He couldn't breath, he couldn't move. He felt it, so close, he felt the soft sighing breath on his neck, he felt it gently touch his head. It pressed him harder into the ground, he was struggling to get free. It held him down. One of those claws drew a careful line along his back.

He was almost gone when the weight lifted, he pulled his head up, gasping for air. Dean pushed himself over. He could hear it, off the trail, off in the trees, breathing softly again.

"Sam!" He managed to get to his brother and turn him over. Sam's arm was bleeding torn open by its teeth. His brother opened his eyes. "You ok?" Sam blinked. "Good, me too. I'll get us back to our shelter in a minute."

It was still there, waiting in the darkness, watching them. _Come on, if you're going to come, come on. _He could hear it, it was purring again, happy, content.

He stopped. He could feel it out there. And the realization curled through him, moving through him like the shadow shape through the inky night, feeding the fear, feeding the rage that had simmered all day, and now it was boiling out, filling him, filling his heart. The fear was ice cold, the rage was white hot, and he knew what it had done, what it wanted.

_It's letting me know it can take us anytime._

_It's done playing._

_The war has begun._

_**To Be Continued**_


	9. Chapter 9

**Screaming for Vengeance**

Chapter Nine

The soft purring sigh filled the dark night. It was waiting. It was watching. A soft snarling breath rolled over them. The shadow shape slipped between the trees, black against black, as if the light was pulled with it. It made its hunting sound, the sharp bark, cutting, wounding. It was ready.

Dean pulled Sam against him. _How can I get us back? Will it come? Or does it want to play a little more? Adding to the hunt, adding to its pleasure when it does finally kill me? _He looked down at Sam. "Sam?" His brother was watching him, concern in his eyes. Dean thought he knew what was there.

"No, Sam, not leaving you. So shut up about it ok?" His brother blinked twice, an angry gesture. "No, Sam. Both of us or not at all."

And the shadow shape barked again, as if it understood what he had said, as if it knew what that meant. The sound chilled Dean. His hands were shaking. It moved again, he thought the soft sigh was closer. It sniffed the air. It was happy. Very happy. It oozed around them, the sound shifting from side to side, it was waiting. _For what? I have to try and get Sam back to safety, back to the fire. _It was in front of them, down the hill, just over the crest, sighing, watching.

The clouds had come up again, the little light the stars cast was slowly extinguished, the night becoming dark. It was as if he had been slowly blinded. His range of vision had shrunk down to a very few feet around him, he could just make out Sam.

The soft sighing breath, purring happily, was getting closer again. Coming up the hill, its passage betrayed only by the soft rustle of branches. Closer, closer. It stopped. Waiting. The breath rasped softly, almost like the sound of its claws against the ground. Softly, purring its kitten purr.

And then, silence.

Complete silence. As if it had disappeared.

Nothing moved in the darkness, there was no sound. It was there, Dean thought he could still sense it there. He tensed, somehow knowing that it was coming, somehow knowing it would. He looked down at Sam. His brother blinked. Dean smiled and gently shifted Sam to the ground. _Come on, come on. _Sam was watching him, concern very apparent in his eyes. Dean nodded a tiny bit.

And it struck.

The great claws hit him, knocking him away from Sam. Hit him again, rolling him further away. And again, and again. Something stopped him., something hard, solid. A fallen tree. It was there in front of him, waiting. He could sense it there, hear its snarling breath. The claws struck out again, rolling him along the log, the root ball stopped him that time. It was coming. Closer, purring now, sniffing. It was pleased. Closer. Closer. A soft sighing breath. A claw reached out, found his shattered leg and jabbed down. Pain exploded through him. It sighed, the claw went deeper. Dean screamed, rage, defiance, pain blended into that shout. It purred, snuffling gently, so close, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, withdrew the claw.

It moved away, from him. He knew it was moving towards Sam.

_No, Sam. No. _"SAM!"

He realized he had no idea where he was in relation to his brother, he didn't even know where to begin. _Up the hill, but how far did it move me? It's so dark I'll never find Sam. I have to find him, I have to find him. _His ankle was a mass of pain, burning, throbbing, anchoring him there, holding him in stillness. He forced himself onto his hands and knees, and started crawling carefully up the hill. Each movement sent a further shaft of pain stabbing into his ankle, moving upwards through his body, calling the darkness in. And with each tiny step, each slide forward Dean could feel something new there, something more than pain. He kept going.

He could hear it up there, grunting softly. It was busy. It was moving. Dean stopped, listening, waiting there in the dark. He could hear it dragging something. _Sam, it's moving him, making him harder for me to find. _Dean waited, trying to figure out where the sound was in relation to him. It was still dragging something. He heard the bark, shrill in the night. The sound of dragging moved, off to his left. It stopped. Barked. And the sound of dragging to his right.

He suddenly knew what it was doing. _It's baiting me. Trying to lead me astray, trying to make it so I can't find Sam in time. In time for what? _

"SAM!" He shouted into the night. "I'm still here!"

It stopped what it was doing. It waited. The soft snarl started building, growing slowly, louder, deeper, becoming a growl, getting louder, getting deeper, until it was less a sound than a physical sensation coming in waves, filling Dean's body with the rumble of its voice.

"Sam!" He yelled over that rumble, over the terrifying sound of its voice.

It sensed his fear. It was happy. He heard it sliding towards him. Moving to where he waited in the trees. It moved up beside him. "SAM! I'm still…" It slashed out with those great claws, connecting with him, slamming him into a tree he hadn't even realized was there. Consciousness dimmed.

It moved off, out into the dark night, out into the silent forest. Purring softly, grunting, the sound almost like laughter.

**XXX**

Sam felt himself gently lifted. The sensation odd in his dead body. Dean was holding him. "Sam?" He looked at his brother, watched the emotions playing there. _He's afraid, he's angry, he's in pain. How can I help? _His brother looked down at him, a wan smile on his face. _Dean, please go, leave me. Please Dean. Go. I can't move, can't feel anything but the pain. If it kills me, I probably won't even know until it's too late. Go, Dean, please._

"No, Sam, not leaving you. So shut up about it ok?" _God damn it Dean, save yourself. Get out of here. _Sam blinked, trying to get that across to his brother. "No, Sam. Both of us or not at all." _No, Dean, please. Just go. Please?_

It barked, a shrill noise, grating on the nerves, terrifying. Sam could sense his brother's fear. He could hear it moving, the breath soft, sighing, snarling all around. _Dean? _Sam could see the first edges of clouds reaching feathery fingers across the sky, pulling the stars behind them. Blotting out the light. Sam's world narrowed to a tiny space. He could just see Dean.

Silence. Unexpected, chilling, complete. The purring breath was gone. There was nothing. Sam felt his heart beat harder, each slow beat pounding in his chest, filling his ears in that silence. Dean looked down at him. _I'm ok, Dean, do what you need to do. I'll be ok here. _He blinked. Dean smiled and laid him on the ground. _Dean, please be careful, please take care of yourself, ok? _His brother nodded a tiny bit.

And Sam heard it, coming, the claws making a small noise in the night. _DEAN! _Sam saw the claws connect with his brother and Dean was gone. He heard it strike his brother again, and again. He heard Dean's body rolling away from him. He heard him grunt as he ran into something, like the sound had been forced out of him involuntarily.

A moment later Sam heard his brother again. Dean screamed. It was a sound of pain, almost unendurable, a sound of rage, soul killing in its depth. _Dean? Dean! _His brother's name screamed in his head. _Are you ok? Please answer me!_

"SAM!" _He's alive._

Sam could hear it coming back, getting closer to him. He could hear the soft breath, purring, it was happy. It got closer, closer. It was almost on top of him. He was moving, he could hear the sound as he was dragged over the ground. Each bump jarring through him, each stop agony in his unresponsive body. It stopped. _Something bad is about to happen, I think. _It was sighing. Sam felt an odd pressure on his chest, he couldn't feel anything but the pressure. _Which is probably good, I think it is injuring me. If I could feel it I would probably be screaming. If I could scream. Which I can't. _

"SAM!" His brother's voice, off to his left. "I'm still here!" _I have a funny feeling you need to get to me quick, Dean. _

It was making a new sound, the horrifying bass rumble filling the night. "Sam!" Dean's voice cut through that growl, breaking the spell a little bit.

Sam heard it moving away from him. _Dean, it's coming for you, DEAN! _It was purring, grunting softly, content as it slid away from him, down towards his brother. He heard it stop. "I'm still…" and Dean's voice was cut off as if it had been sliced away. Sam heard it moving away, and a new sound. Happy, almost cheerful.

Terrifying.

_It's happy. Dean? What did it do? Dean?? Did it kill him? Dean! It's pleased. It left. Why did it leave now? DEAN!_

He waited, listening. Waiting. He opened his eyes, he could see nothing, the stars were still gone, hiding from it. The forest was silent. Nothing moved, nothing disturbed the silence.

Sam was feeling odd. He couldn't think of another way to describe it. _I need to get to Dean. It did something to me, I think. How can I get to him? Am I bleeding to death? It left me here, why? Does it want me to think it killed Dean? Did it kill Dean? How can I find him? What does it want? Why did it leave me? It wants something. What…? _Realization flowed through him like its poison. _It wants Dean. Why? Did it kill him? How can I help him? It's using me. Dean?_

The forest was still silent. Nothing moving, nothing in that dark night. Sam listened, straining, his thoughts pulled away, out there into the forest, out there where his brother had been.

_Dean? Are you still there? I think you might be in trouble. Dean? Are you alive? I need you to be alive, I need to know that before I die, Dean. Are you still there?_

**XXX**

Dean groaned, he heard his own voice in the night. Something answered him, a coyote yipped off somewhere, talking to him. _I am losing my mind. _The night was filling with sound again. He thought he could see a faint glow starting in the sky, the tiniest light at the edge of the clouds. _I need to get up, I need to find Sam. _He pushed himself over. _And Dean? You're an idiot. _He reached into his pocket, his lighter was still there. _Now, can I find something that will burn? _He flipped the lighter open, a small light in the huge darkness around him. _That helps. Ha. _He felt around him. His hand connected with a branch, wet, he slid his hand on and on. Finally he put his hand on something sticky. He picked up the branch, it had pitch on part of it. He held the lighter to it and it burst into flame.

_Now, all I have to do is figure out how to crawl with his in my hand. _He started to move forward, holding the burning stick up, the heel of his hand on the ground. He crawled slowly up the hill. "Sam?" He was finally at the top of the hill. He moved on, stopping holding the torch up to look for Sam. Crawling forward, stopping, looking, crawling forward. He could see the soft glow of the fire by their shelter. It wasn't all that far away. _It might as well be a thousand miles. _Crawling forward, looking for Sam. Endlessly.

"Sam?" Something at the edge of the torch light. "Sam?" He got to his brother. There was a dark stain spreading across Sam's chest. His eyes were closed. "Hey, come on." He pulled the torn edge of Sam's shirt apart, there was a great slash there, bleeding slowly. _Oh, god. _"Sam?" _I have to get something to fix that, I need to get him to safety. _He laughed bitterly. _Cause there are so many safe places out here. I'll just make a fire by Sam. _He started grabbing branches, stacking them carefully, he shoved his torch into the pile. It slowly caught, crackling, hissing, steam rising from some of the branches like smoke.

"Sam? I'm going to go get the pack, I need the first aid kit. Hang on, only a minute more." He crawled back towards their shelter, he pushed himself up so he could step over the burning embers and got the pack, emergency blanket and Sam's coat. _Don't forget the can and the water bottle, brilliant. _One bottle was empty, but he grabbed the other, the can, his crutch and headed back towards Sam. _Whatever it did to my ankle, I don't think its going to hold out much longer._

He dropped back down by his brother. _God, I hope he isn't bleeding to death. _He carefully wiped the blood away. _Maybe it's not as bad as I thought. _He poked gently at the wound. _It's not nearly as bad as I thought, he's bleeding but not bad, it's just not that deep. Then why? God, more venom? _He cleaned the wound and pulled the edges together, gluing it shut with butterfly bandages. He put a sterile pad over it and stuck it all down with tape. _There, that should hold. Might stay clean for an hour or two. _

Dean sighed. _I don't want to know, but I have to look at my ankle. It did something, I think, unless it was just torturing me, which is a possibility. _He carefully slid his pant leg up and looked at the wound just above his boot, it was deep. _If it had poisoned me I think I would feel it by now, wouldn't I? Or actually not feel it by now, which would be nice. I don't think it's nice, so why? _He looked at the wound again, moving his leg closer to the firelight. _Well it hurts, but why? It's not really like that ankle could get much worse. I didn't mean that, do you hear me, I didn't mean it. I take it back. _

_Ok, I'm losing it. _

He crawled around Sam, carefully building a stack of fire wood so he could light a fire around them, so they could be safe in a circle of flame. _And hopefully won't light the forest on fire while I'm at it, of course at least that would bug it. _He stopped, the first wisps of an idea drifting through his mind. _Hmmm. _He lit the fire and moved back to his brother.

He pulled Sam up onto his leg again. Dean put his hand on Sam's chest, waiting, waiting. There, a heartbeat. _Thank god, he's still so cold I can't tell unless I feel that pulse. _Sam's eyes opened, slowly, as if it took and enormous effort. He looked up at Dean. "Hey, Sam." Sam blinked, the lids sliding down pausing and opening again. "I'm ok. It just knocked me around a little. You?" Sam looked at him. "What? Sam?" His brother's eyes closed. Dean waited, they opened slowly. "I cleaned the wound on your chest, it's not all that bad, might even get away with hardly a scar."

Still Sam was looking at him, steady, intense. "Do you think it poisoned you again? Sam?" _Come on, tell me, Sammy. _His brother's eyes rolled a little. "Well you'd be the one to know, how do you think I'd tell?" Dean snapped. "Sorry. I might be a tiny bit worried, just a little stressed you know?"

He could see concern in his brother's eyes. "I'm ok, Sam. Really, and tomorrow I'll get us out of here." Sam looked at him, there was something else there in his eyes. "Oh, yeah, Sammy, we'll kill it, too. Don't worry about that. I promise you, it dies." He looked down at his brother. "I think it's playing a different game now. When it comes back…I don't know…I think it might be ready…but it dies, Sam. I promise."

Dean put a little more wood on the fire, the sky was finally getting light, the birds waking, singing with the joy of morning. _I wonder when it will come? _He heard the wind touching the trees, a gentle sound, comforting. He thought he could see a tiny bit of blue in the sky. The sounds of the forest came alive all around him, called back from their sleep by the coming sun. His eyes were closing, he couldn't stop them. _I had better lay down or I'll end up sleeping in the fire. Which would be bad. _He shifted his brother off his leg and lay down beside. "Give me five minutes, Sam, then we're out of here." He put a hand on Sam and the inner dark reached out like nightfall and pulled him away.

Consciousness crept into his awareness, slowly, softly. Waking him gently. It was sunny, he could feel the warmth on his back. _I have to admit I love this moment, not asleep, not awake, when everything is just right, even the bed is comfortable. _More awareness. _Of course this bed is the muddy ground. _A squirrel was chattering from a tree somewhere. _Squirrels found me, I'm done for now. _He opened his eyes. The fire was smoldering, just a hint of warmth from the embers. _What the hell time is it? _The sun was well up in the sky, maybe even past its zenith.

"Morning, Sammy," Dean said automatically. He sat up and pushed a little wood into the coals closest to him. A flame caught. He filled the can with water, broke part of the last chocolate bar into it and put at the edge of the fire to heat. He looked at his brother. Sam's eyes were open. "Hey, Sam, chocolate will be ready in a minute."

"Thanks." Nearly silent, but there, the softest suggestion of sound.

"Sam?"

"Dean?" It took effort, he could see that, the word forced out of his brother. Straining his resources, but still he tried.

Dean realized he was grinning, the first real smile he had felt in what seemed like years. Of course, with the grin he could feel something suspiciously wet in his eyes. _Thank god. _"Sam?" He turned away, clearing his throat. _Oh, no. This is embarrassing. _"Chocolate's ready, you want some?" Sam blinked. "Good boy." Dean lifted him up and supported him while they shared the cup of warm liquid.

He put the cup down. "I think you feel a little warmer to me today. How do you feel?" He looked, waiting for the answer in Sam's eyes.

"Don't know," the forced breath.

"Hey, don't talk. I'll figure out what you mean." Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah well—bitch." He smiled at his brother. A squirrel was hopping across the clearing toward them. "Oh, god, here comes one of those damn squirrels. I think they are hunting me, dude."

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean could see the smile there, clearly in his brother's eyes. "Well they are, I gave them some food the other day and now I think they are out to get me." Sam was looking at him. "What, you don't think the squirrels are after me?" Sam blinked. "I am not losing it, Sam. Shut up."

"Are too," the soft whisper.

"Just shut up." he was smiling. He couldn't stop. _I think he's going to be ok, maybe. Please. _"You want something more to drink? I could try blueberry tea. Yum." Sam looked at him, smiling. "Well, it's something and I'll eat the warm blueberries."

He heated some of the blueberries, the liquid a dark purple. He and Sam shared the cup and another. The sun was moving through the sky, heading towards evening. Sam seemed warmer and had managed to whisper a tiny conversation with him. The effort was exhausting him. "Hey, I need to get firewood for the night, Sammy. Why don't you rest for a minute? I'll be right back."

He grabbed his crutch and pulled himself up, moving out into the clearing. Once there he stopped. Sam couldn't see him here. Pull his pant leg up and looked at his ankle, looked at the wound it had made the night before. It was cold, throbbing, there were…_Shit. _He let the jeans slide back down and stood up gathering wood, enough wood to get Sam through the night. _And maybe the next. He might be able to move a little by then so he could feed the fire. _He made several trips piling the wood around them, leaving a small opening he could get in and out through.

He sat back down and pulled Sam against him again. Sam opened his eyes. "I'll get you out of here tomorrow, Sam," he sad.

"No."

"Not leaving you, Sam. Don't even start again."

"Wait."

"For what? We need to get out of here."

"No." Sam looked at him.

"What is it?"

"Not safe."

"I know. But we have to get out of here." _Come on, Sam. I need to get you safe. I need to know you're safe before I hunt that thing. Yeah, right._

"No, stay, fight."

"Are you freaking nuts? No, no, sorry Sam. No." He was starting to get angry. "No." He could feel the emotions of the last few days starting to boil in him. "You don't get to hunt this, I won't let you. Sam, I thought…I…no Sam. No."

"Dean."

"No, Sam. No way."

"Too late."

"What?"

"Too late."

And Dean realized it was silent except for the crackle of the fire. The sun was dying in the sky, hiding behind the clouds. Nothing moved, even the whisper of the wind was gone. It was coming. Dean couldn't hear it, but he knew. It was coming. It was coming slowly through the forest, unseen, sliding from darkness to darkness, pulling the light, taking life as it moved through the trees. Its sighing breath all that was left in its wake.

It was coming. He could sense it now at the very edge of his consciousness. It was aware of him, too. He knew it was happy, it was ready. It was coming. The shadow death was coming through the forest, seeking him, knowing where to find him.

He shifted, moving Sam back down.

"Dean, no."

"What?"

"No."

The scream filled the forest, echoing through the trees, a clarion call, the call to battle. The sound rose around them, a great wave, violent, promising death. It was a shriek that had echoed through the ages, the last call to the bloody fields. It was reveling in the sound of its own voice. Dean knew that. It was issuing a challenge, calling him out.

"Dean, no."

It was coming. The call to war, it was ready. Dean pushed himself up on his crutch. _If I don't go it will come for Sam. I have to go. I can't wait here. It will come for him, only because it wants me._ He knew that, now, too. It wanted him. Not Sam, him. Sam was merely collateral damage as far as it was concerned, a plaything to be discarded. _And that changes everything. Sam seems to be improving, he'll be ok. He can get himself out of here, if I go he can get out. If it takes me he'll be ok._

"Dean, please, no."

He dropped down onto one knee. "Sam, I'm sorry. It wants me I think. If I go maybe you can get safe."

"No."

"Sam, I have to give you a chance."

"No, stay. Dean." Sam was crying, the tears running down his face. Dean wiped them away. _I need to show him, let him know there's really no hope for me anyway. _

"Sammy. It got me last night," he pulled his jeans up, and showed Sam the wound it had made, the cold wound, dark, the poison moving out in black streaks like a spider's web slowly spinning up his leg. "I think I'm dead anyway. Let me at least save you. Please, Sam."

"Dean, no."

"Yes, Sam." He knew he was crying, didn't care if his brother saw. "Goodbye, little brother." He pushed himself up again and stepped outside the fire. He didn't look back. He took one step away from Sam and then another.

"DEAN!" His brother's voice, _his voice, oh, god, his voice. _Sounding like it had been ripped from him. The grief in that call nearly drove Dean to his knees.

Still he walked on.

The bark sounded, sharp. The forest was growing dark as Dean moved slowly down the hill, down where he thought it was waiting. He could hear it now, the soft sigh, snarling, grunting. Waiting for him. Purring with pleasure. It barked again, the hunting sound.

"Come out and play," he said to the dark trail in front of him. "Here I am."

And he heard it sigh, a new voice, a soft sound. The sound filled him with dread. And he knew without a doubt, the realization moving through him as surely as the poison from its claws moving up his leg. It was ready, its moment had come. It would play only a moment more, then it would be ready to end the game. His death was waiting there. The thought drove his rage, it fed the fear. A great chasm in him now, full of cold, full of darkness. Fear becoming terror, rage becoming vengeance.

He screamed.

_**To Be Continued**_


	10. Chapter 10

**Screaming for Vengeance**

Chapter Ten

It was there, in the dark, waiting for him. He could hear it, sighing softly, waiting for him. It was purring with pleasure, waiting for him. The dark shape, a mass against the dark forest, waiting for him.

Dean walked on towards it. He slid his gun silently out of the holster. _I don't know if it will do any good against it, but I feel better with it in my hand. It feels nice to be able to have it in my hand again, nice to have two hands._

The pain in his shattered ankle was nearly unbearable, he could feel the cold curling up his leg, reaching up like fingers of frost. Pulling the warmth of life away. _Will it come for me? Or will it wait for that to kill me? It wants something more from me. What? _

It shifted, moving around, he could see the shadow shape sliding to his left, dark against dark, the fading light unable to touch it. Night was coming. The light was dying a slow death, the forest silent, unable to stop the night, unable to stop the dark shape, the shadow moving through the trees.

He could hear it, moving behind him, the soft sighing, snarling, pleased as it moved. Excited as it hunted. The battle had been joined, it was happy. It was moving again, the undergrowth betraying it as it shifted around him.

Dean kept walking down the dark trail. The night was complete, it was as if he were wrapped in a blanket, no light, no sound except the sound of its soft breath. It was waiting again, stopped, sighing softly in the trees.

_This is getting old. _"Well? What are you waiting for?" He said talking to the night. It barked, its hunting call, the sound rolling up the trail. It barked again. _Come on, just get it over with. God, I hope Sam is ok. Please let him be ok. I wonder what it wants? I wonder when it will come? I hope Sam can keep the fire going, god I hope he's ok. Once it's done with me I think it will leave. _

The pain, the worry for Sam distracted him. It was a fatal mistake.

It moved. The night shattering as it came out of the trees. Dean looked up, saw the dark moving towards him, he heard the small whistling sound as the great claws swung through the air. They touched him, almost gently, moving across him, moving him. He was down. The gun was knocked from his hand .The great weight pressed down on him, something hooked into his side, rolling him over. He looked up—into its eyes, black against the night, no light, the reflection of a million deaths, the fluttering of carrion eaters, the depths of the darkest places, endless night, the primal death, the primordial ooze.

He screamed in pain, he screamed in terror, he screamed his rage.

Out of the night, flying over the dark forest, his brother's voice touched him. "DEAN! HANG ON!" _Sam? Are you ok? Sam! Damn it's good to hear your voice._

It moved him, pulling him with the claw hooked into his side. He tried to see it, tried to see more, tried to focus on something to kill, something to wound as it had injured him as it had wounded his brother. Dean reached out for something to hold onto, his hand closed on a root thrusting out of the earth. He stopped, it moved on, the claw slowly ripping away. He screamed.

Again the voice cutting through the night, carrying the sound of life with it. "DEAN!"

It turned, coming back towards Dean. He could hear it sliding up the trail, approaching him. It was sighing in the new voice, satisfied. It was coming closer, snuffling, a careful sound, coaxing, cajoling. He tried to get up, feeling around for his crutch, he'd dropped the stick as it had dragged him down the trail. It was coming closer. Sighing, snarling softly, talking to itself, laughing in the night. Dean knew it was close. He felt its touch, gentle, almost like a lover. Gentle, soft, until the claw stabbed down, still slow, so slow, torturing him with that touch. He tried to stop the scream, he couldn't. It was torn from him like the flesh it had carried away with its claws.

"DEAN! I'M COMING!"

_Sam? How? Sammy? Are you ok? Sam—no, no, what do you think you're doing? NO! Stay away, let me handle this. Cause I'm doing such a great job with this._ _Sam! No. _

The claw withdrew. It moved away from him. Moving around to the side where the he held onto the root with a death grip. It stood there sighing to itself, snarling, grunting. He sensed it reaching towards him, reaching slowly. _Come on. Damn it come on, just get it over with. Kill me. _It grabbed his hand with those claws tearing him away from the root.

He felt it, close, he could see nothing, blood was pouring into his eyes. Teeth closed on his wrist he was pulled up, up, up and then dropped. He slammed into the ground. Groaning, fear upper most in his mind, fear for himself, fear for his brother. He could feel it snuffling beside him, the great weight on his back and its breath blew softly through his hair.

It purred.

It knew him.

It was happy.

**XXX**

"Too late," Sam whispered to his brother. Sam had heard the sound slowly dying around them. He tried to get his brother to listen, Dean was focused elsewhere until he stopped, listening, hearing what Sam had, the quiet death of the forest.

Silence. It was pouring into the forest, filling it, pushing the noise away until there was nothing left. Sam was watching his brother's face, what he saw terrified him. _Dean, no, you can't. Dean what are you thinking? _Dean carefully shifted him onto the ground, gently putting his head onto the pack.

"Dean, no." He forced the words out, trying to stop his brother, trying to keep him there.

Its scream tore through the forest. Sam saw his brother raise his head, listening to that scream, hearing something there for his ears alone. _Dean. No. No. What are you doing? I can't let you, Dean. No._

"Dean, no." He looked at his brother. "Dean, please, no."

His brother dropped down beside him. "Sam, I'm sorry. It wants me I think. If I go maybe you can get safe."

"No." _No, Dean, not yet. _

His brother looked at him, his eyes begging him to understand. "Sam, I have to give you a chance."

"No, stay, Dean." _Please stay, please Dean. Let me help you somehow. _Sam felt tears on his face. His brother gently wiped them away, his fingers cold, trembling.

Dean sighed. "Sammy, it got me last night." He pulled his pant leg up. Sam saw a wound, bloody, dark, above Dean's boot. Black tendrils were reaching up his brother's leg as if seeking his life to draw it away. _God, Dean, why didn't you tell me? What can I do? _"I think I'm dead anyway. Let me at least save you. Please, Sam."

_No, Dean, You don't get to throw away your life like this. Let me help, let me save you, please Dean, just give me a minute to help, please. _"Dean, no."

"Yes, Sam." Dean said softly, he was crying, Sam saw the tears making tracks through the dirt on his brother's face. _He's crying. _"Goodbye little brother." Dean pushed himself up and started to walk away, away from him, away from the safety of the fire. He didn't look back, he didn't pause, just moved forward, shuffling, limping heavily on the ankle.

_No, no, Dean! Stop, come back! _"DEAN!" The cry ripped from him, he heard the sound of his voice, he felt the pain as the scream tore out of his throat. He tasted blood.

His brother kept going.

"Dean, no." He whispered onto the night, tasting the blood, feeling it warm in his mouth. He tried to force his body to move, tried to follow his brother. He was still trapped in the dead husk. _No. No. I have to get to him, I have to stop him, this is suicide. Dean, please. _

He struggled against his body, trying to make it move, trying to pull himself from the icy cold, from the all-pervading pain. _I have to stop him, I have to stop him. I have to get to him. I have to help him. Dean! _The light was beginning to fade, the first touches of night moving into the forest. Darkness was coming, silently, nothing to herald its arrival except the silence.

Then Sam heard his brother's voice. A wordless, mindless scream filled with terror, with agony, with a shrieking rage that flowed over the silent forest.

_DEAN! _He fought against his body, he fought to get up, he fought to get to his brother. He fought to find it, to find what caused that scream and to end it.

_It dies, no matter what, it dies. _

His body still wouldn't respond. _Dean, no._ Sam waited, listening. There was nothing else. Silence reigned. Night had come, the forest dark, nothing moving, only the inky night, without stars, without a moon, without sound.

He heard it bark, in the distance, the sound cutting through him, through the night. And again it barked. Its voice sharp, challenging. And then…_Dean? No! Dean! _His brother screamed. All Sam could hear in that sound was pain, terror, death.

"DEAN! HANG ON!" He forced the sound out, felt it tearing at his throat. He could taste blood, felt it on his face. Dean screamed again and Sam felt the rage beginning in him, hot, forcing the cold away. His heart was pounding, the pain in his body enormous, filling him and still the rage came, flowing into him, boiling away the cold, taking the numbness, driving all else before it. Pain pulsing as hot as the rage.

His brother screamed again. "DEAN!" His hands were shaking, he could feel them, he could feel the slash on his chest, the wounds in his neck, the wounds in his wrists its teeth had left.

Rage, hot, a living thing, forcing his body to awareness, forcing it into movement. It was costing him, it would exact a terrible price, but it didn't matter.

"DEAN! I'M COMING!"

And he forced his body up. Forced it to move, demanded that it go forward, each step agony, each move forward taking a little more and still he went on. He grabbed a flaming branch from the fire, felt the warmth in the bright light, it felt cool in the face of the rage. One step and another, forcing his body on.

_I'm coming, Dean. Hang on. Just hang on._

**XXX**

It had moved away again, playing its game with him. Dean pushed himself over so he was looking up, up through the darkness. There was a small glow in the clouds, the moon, full, bright above the cover, shining through with a tiny light. It was sighing softly, watching him as he fought to get up. He crawled until he ran into a tree and then dragged himself up, using the tree as a prop.

_Good, now I'm up I can take this thing down. I swear I heard Sam's voice, but how? Sam, please be ok. Take care of yourself, get out of here when you can. _

It was waiting, listening, watching him. He knew it was there, he sensed it as it watched. It was enjoying this game. It was happy, pleased with itself, pleased with its prey. It was sighing softly, the snarling breath flowing around Dean like a cold wind. Curling upwards, touching his face, his mind.

Memory came like a nightmare, brief, just a fleeting moment among so many.

"_Dad?" He turned his father over, gently, praying to anyone who was listening to let his father be alive. "Dad?" The wounds were spectacular, gruesome, something had torn his father apart. He was bleeding, he was dying._

_Dean could hear something at the very edge of the cave, moving there softly in the darkness, swaying slightly as if in a wind. It was there from the depths it had come from. It was sighing, watching him. He wasn't sure how he knew, but it was watching him. It had left his father there for Dean to find. Dean thought he could see something, a shadow shape against the unending night of the earth. _

_His father groaned, pain, fear in that sound. "Dad? It's ok, I've got you, I'm going to get you out of here." He stood pulling his father with him, the warm blood running down his body. The shadow shape had followed, silently sliding through the trees, watching him, gauging him. He felt it there, heard it sighing softly, as it watched him trying to save his father. _

_It finally turned away, moving back into the forest. _

It was there, now, watching him, finishing the game begun so long ago. Dean could hear it snarling softly, sighing, purring, pleased. It knew he recognized it. It was happy, it wanted him to know it before he died. The dark night it had come from, the ages that it had walked there among the silence, the lives it had owned, the lives it had ended. The myriad games, the many playthings it had taken. Thousands. It had walked among the fields of blood and had feasted. It brought darkness, it knew pain, it created terror. Ancient, always, untouched.

Dean stood, listening, watching waiting for it to move again, waiting for the last battle to begin. It would come, he knew, it wasn't ready to kill, it wanted to bleed him, know him, take his soul before it took his life. Take hope before it led him into the dark. It would make him beg for the end, beg for the release before it was done. It was ready. It was waiting, softly sighing, letting Dean understand what he faced, understand that it was a death that all else fled, a death that even the terrors of the earth ran from.

It sighed, sniffing, scenting the air, waiting. Sighing, watching, snarling. It would play, but this was the final game. The end, reaching out for him like the cold tendrils in his leg, like the claws tearing into flesh.

A sound shattered the silence, something was moving through the trees. Dean saw light, flame, coming down the hill, down the trail. Coming towards him, coming toward it as it waited there, scenting Dean, waiting to begin the final play.

"Dean!" His brother screamed, the sound harsh, grating. Pained.

"Sam! No! Run!" Dean yelled. _No, Sam, no. _

It had turned, watching his brother approaching, watching the small bobbing light coming through the darkness of the forest. It was moving, away from Dean, moving towards Sam. Dean saw the shadow move in front of Sam, blocking the light as if it had absorbed it, taking it the way it would take Sam's life.

"SAM!" Dean tried to run, tried to get to his brother, his ankle wouldn't support him. He fell onto the trail his hands desperately seeking something, anything to help him up. He found the crutch, shoving himself upwards.

Sam screamed.

Dean propelled himself forward, slow. _Too slow, too slow. Sam, I'm sorry. What are you doing? I'll kill you myself! _It was moving away, away from Sam, back into the night. Dean forced himself on to where the tiny flame was burning. He could see Sam, face down, on the muddy trail.

It was purring, sighing from the darkness, the only sound in the silent forest. It was laughing, playing its game.

"Sam?" Dean knelt down beside his brother and turned him over. Blood dark on his face. His eyes were closed. _No, Sam. No. Not like this. _"Sammy?" He put his hand down on Sam's chest. His brother's heart was pounding, the effort of getting there driving his heart to race, fast, nearly killing in its pace. "Sam, hey, come on." _He's alive. He's alive. He's alive._

He saw Sam's eyes slowly open. "Dean?" He whispered, his voice rough.

"Sam," he blinked back tears. They would do no good now, not now. "What the hell, Sammy?"

"Sorry, Dean." He smiled, struggling to sit up.

Dean pulled him up against him, his arms supporting his brother, his brother's arms supporting him. "Sam, you should have…Sam…"

"No, Dean," his brother's voice was soft, gentle, firm, unmovable. "Both of us, Dean, or not at all."

"Sam…"

"No, Dean, so just shut up about it."

"It wants me, Sam. Not you."

"Dean? No. Sorry. No."

"Sam…" He looked at his brother, saw the resolve in Sam's eyes. It terrified him.

"Dean, we kill it or we go down together."

"I'm not sure it wants to play that way."

"Then we change the rules."

Dean smiled. _Sam I think you've lost your mind. _"Can you get up?" Sam nodded pushing himself up, Dean could see the pain the movement caused. Sam held his hand out and pulled Dean up, putting an arm around his waist to support the shattered ankle.

And it came.

Out of the trees where it had been waiting.

It came, tearing him from his brother, pulling him into the darkness, into the night where its silence reigned.

It dropped him. He could still see the faint flicker of the light from the branch Sam had been carrying.

It stood in front of him, sighing. Snarling. The soft purr filling it, rumbling outwards, making the ground tremble. It moved away, behind him, scenting the air, seeking Sam there in the dark night. It turned back. One of those claws pressed into him, pressing him down, holding him down, and it screamed. It screamed its pleasure, it screamed, calling death to that dark forest.

Dean tried to force himself up. _No, not ending like this, no. _It withdrew back into the night, barking challenging him. Dean pushed himself up. _Where's Sam? I know he's out there. Where? _It was purring, watching him struggling to move.

It came again. It hit him with the claws, he felt the teeth. He screamed in his rage, in his pain. Challenging it, calling it to battle, letting it know the war was joined, that he was ready. It backed off. _That's what it was waiting for. _

And he knew, the realization curling through him, upwards ever upwards like sparks flying to meet the stars. It had tried to kill his father, to get to him, to learn him. It had tried to kill Sam. It thought it had killed Sam. To torture him, to know him a little better before it killed him, before it came to take his life as surely as it took the sound from the forest. Rage filled him, finally, completely, driving the pain from his battered body, driving all thought from his mind. Only one thing was left. Vengeance. Death. Its death. Maybe his, but it didn't matter.

_The battle has begun._

_Time to find out who I am._

_**To Be Continued**_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Just another reminder I do not write death fic!_**  
**

**Screaming for Vengeance**

Chapter Eleven

It was waiting, moving through the trees. The shadow shape sliding in and out of the darkness, sighing softly. The snarling breath filling the forest, pulling life away leaving only silence. It moved, slowly, weaving a path through the darkness, a pattern woven a thousand times, the complexity of the dance of death.

Dean struggled up, pushing himself up. He could feel blood running, hot, down his body. He knew it was there, waiting, he could sense it. He could feel its pleasure now. It knew him, it was learning with each moment, each second increasing that pleasure. It sighed, purring softly, its soft snarl winding around him, binding him there. The battle had begun. It would play its game, it would fight its war, the moves well known the outcome inevitable.

His body was beginning to fail, he knew that. His shattered ankle was a mass of pain, the cold was slowly spinning up his leg, further into his body. The black poison tracing a web of pain through him. The time would come when it would come for him. It was still playing, testing, knowing. The hunt was all, it would draw him out to the fields where the creatures of death waited to devour what was left when it was done with him.

It was coming again. He heard the change in its voice, the soft breath sighing out, purring, snarling as it prepared to move again. He tensed, waiting. It was ready. The purring reaching out to him in the dark, bouncing off the trees around him. It was coming. Sliding closer to him, the shadow shape silent, the bushes moving from it, pulling away as if its touch could wound then take their life, pulling it away to where it walked silent through the dark.

It was sighing soft, grunting. The battle was joined. It was coming. Testing, gauging, knowing. The great claws swung for him again, knocking him down. He hit something, a rock off the side of the trail. It reached out through the inky night, the claws making a soft noise as they tore aside the air.

Flame burst above Dean.

In that brief moment Dean saw its claws, curved, covered in blood, his blood. He saw the barest flash of teeth in a great dark maw and the eyes, the nothingness of its eyes. Death, fear, terror.

And the fire came again, with it his brother's voice. A battle cry. Dean looked over Sam had slipped silently up, and was swinging a burning branch like a club, holding another before him like a shield.

It screamed, the terrible sound filling the dark night. It shrieked, the call to war. It was challenging the defender. It turned the great claws towards Sam and swung. Sam was down, the burning branches flickering on the ground. It barked and then, purring softly, chuckling, pleased with itself, pleased with what had happened, it slid back into the night.

Dean lay where he had dropped against the rock. He tried to struggle up, trying to get to his brother, wanting to make sure Sam was ok. _I need to get up, I need to get to Sam. _Gentle hands turned him over. "Dean?"

"Sam? Are you ok?"

Sam looked at him like he was crazy and laughed softly, shaking his head. He moved away for a minute and came back with one of the burning branches. He set it down by Dean, using the light to find other wood. Sam got a fire burning, carefully building it around them. Dean watched as his brother's movements became slower and slower, each shift reflecting the pain, the effort it took to keep going. Dean tried to push himself up to help Sam. His body refused to go.

Sam finally sat down and put his back against the rock. He gently lifted Dean and pulled him up against his shoulder. His brother's arm was warm around him. Dean sighed, relaxing a little against Sam.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?" Sam's voice was soft, almost a whisper again.

"How?"

"I don't really know. I heard you scream, you know and I had to get to you, I knew I had to get to you," he said softly. His voice betraying the effort that had taken.

"Freak," Dean said, nudging Sam gently with an elbow.

"This from the guy who thinks the squirrels are out to get him?"

"They are, I'm telling you Sam, they are out to get me."

"I think you might be losing your mind, Dean."

"Probably, squirrels might have gotten it."

"I'm sure," Sam said softly.

"You shouldn't have come, Sam."

"Dean?"

"What?"

"I…would you…Just shut up." Sam sighed and leaned back a little more, pulling Dean tight against him. "How are we getting out of here?"

"Sam…"

"Dean? Shut up, we are getting out. Both of us, that's what you said when I wanted you to leave me. So…"

"It wants me, Sam. I don't think it wants you."

Sam looked over at him, "Yeah, I know. Do you know why?"

"I…I'm not sure, but I think I might have seen it before."

"And you didn't mention that because?"

"It only just occurred to me. Remember when I was 20, dad and I went hunting a wendigo? You stayed behind for some school thing, I think."

"When dad was hurt, nearly died. Yeah, Dean, I remember."

"We were out, and dad disappeared. Just vanished. I was looking for him all night. Combing the woods, I didn't find him until the next morning, torn up, dying. It was there, watching me. I think it did that to dad to see what I would do."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I know it tracked me as I carried dad out. I could hear it back behind me. I thought at first it was the wendigo, but I think the wendigo made itself scarce when it showed up," Dean sighed. "I think it might have been waiting for me for a long time. I think its ready to finish what it started."

Sam frowned, "You think so? It left when I came with the torch."

_Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Sam? You know it's not done. This is all part of the game. It's getting ready for the final battle and I think you might have made yourself a target again. I don't think it likes the fact you are up and around. Unless that was part of it, too. Something to distract me, something else it can use against me. Oh, this is so not good._

"Dean? What?" Sam sighed. "Yeah, I don't believe that either. Will it play more? Or…?"

Dean shrugged, "I don't know, Sam. I just hope…" _And shut up, Dean. _

"Hope what Dean?" Sam had shifted a little so he could look at him. Dean saw tears in his brother's eyes. "How bad is it?"

"Not bad, Sammy. I'm more worried about you."

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam said. Dean heard what was there behind his brother's voice. The pain, the exhaustion, the sheer will it was taking to keep Sam going. _I hope he can't hear…_"So we agree to lie to each other?" Sam said with his half smile.

Dean laughed softly, "Maybe a little." His ankle was throbbing, the pain was beginning to feel like an infection and the cold was spinning up his leg, reaching up with fingers of ice. _Which is just not good._ He knew he was bleeding. _I wonder if I should mention that to Sam? I might want to mention something, I feel a little funny. _

"Dean? Listen," Sam said quietly.

"What?" Then Dean heard it, the soft call of an owl in a tree behind them. "I guess that means it's ok to rest for a minute or two." He took a deep breath. "Could you look at my side, Sam?"

Sam moved so he could pull Dean's shirt away from where the claw had hooked into his side, had torn away flesh. Dean saw his brother swallow. Sam looked up at Dean again, the tears back in his eyes.

"Come on, Sammy, it could be a lot worse. " _No it couldn't. I take it back, I take it back, do you hear me this time? I didn't mean it._

"The pack is up on the hill, I can't get it until daylight," Sam said calmly, in the "no need to panic" voice. He carefully tore part of his shirt away folding it into a pad and pressing in down on Dean's side. Sam was trying to be gentle, but pain exploded out from his touch. Dean tried to stop the yelp, it almost worked coming out more like a strangled laugh. "Sorry." Sam said calmly, quietly, his voice soothing.

"It's ok, Sam." Dean said smiling at his brother. Sam pulled him back against the rock, his arm warm around Dean.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"When we get out of here I am never leaving civilization ever again."

"Never, ever again, Sam," he laughed softly. "I think I'll even avoid houseplants just in case."

Sam laughed with him. "Get some sleep Dean. I'll keep watch for an hour or two, ok?"

Dean's eyes were already closing. "Wake me in an hour, Sam."

"Sure, Dean. An hour."

The sun was warm on Dean's face. There was a gentle warm pressure against his chest. _Sam. _He could hear the birds singing brightly in the trees welcoming the sun, dawn's herald singing praise. He could hear the fire crackling quietly, whispering to itself. He shifted a little. He was stretched out, his head resting on something soft, warm. He opened his eyes. Sam smiled down at him.

"Morning Sammy," he said trying to push himself up. Sam moved his hand from Dean's chest and used it to help him up.

"Morning, Dean," his voice was back to a whisper.

"Sam? What is it?"

"Nothing, I just kind of strained it a little last night."

Dean breathed out a sigh of relief, pushing the panic down. _I hope he didn't hear that in my voice. All I need if for him to think I am completely freaked out. Which I'm not. Not at all. Nope._ He could smell something, warm comforting. "Is that chocolate?"

"Last of it," Sam said smiling. He pulled the can away from the fire and poured it into the cup. He held it out to Dean.

"Sam? You didn't do anything stupid like go get the pack did you?"

"No, I sent the squirrels."

"Oh, that's alright then," he shifted so he could look at Sam.

"Don't even say it Dean. We needed the first aid kit, we needed what was left of the food."

"I would have gone to get it, Sam." Dean said sipping the chocolate and handing it to his brother. Sam looked at him, steadily, unwavering. His eyebrows rose a little. "Ok, thanks, but you should have waited until I was awake." A thought crept into his befuddled brain. "You should have woken me last night to take a watch, what the hell?"

"You needed to sleep, Dean. I dozed off and on and kept the fire going. It was quiet all night, or actually," he smiled. "It was pretty noisy. So I knew it was ok. I was thinking Dean. While its gone I think we should try and get as far as we can."

"Yeah, I think so too. We need to make sure we each have a torch. I still think it is the only weapon we have against it." Dean smiled and leaned back. They finished the chocolate, Sam pulled out the smashed bag of blueberries and they split half of what was left.

"You ready?" Sam said slowly pulling himself up on the rock. He held a hand out to Dean, helping him up.

"Sure Sam, give me a torch." Sam handed Dean a burning branch and grabbed one for himself. He pulled Dean's arm over his shoulders and put an arm firmly around Dean's waist. "Ready, Sam, let's go."

Dean tried not to lean too much on his brother. He could feel the tension in Sam as he fought to keep going. Their progress was slow, barely movement at all. His ankle was agony. It had ceased to feel as part of his body only a source of unending pain. The poison slowly winding up through his body ice cold, the infection that had started, almost unnoticed, hot as fire. Where the two met they bound themselves together in an endless knot of pain.

He kept walking.

Sam was slowing down. Dean tried to shift more of his brother's weight onto himself. It didn't work well, they nearly fell head first down the long hill they were negotiating. Sam stopped for a minute, leaning against a tree. Dean took as much pressure off his ankle—and his brother—as he could. Sam had his eyes closed his face a mask of pain. He had been getting quieter as the day progressed. His voice slowly fading away.

"Sam?"

"No, Dean," he whispered, pushing himself up off the tree and pulling Dean's arm over his shoulders again. He started down the hill, one step, another, slowly down the hill.

Dean could see the steam rising above the trail, the sun warming the path, bringing a last taste of life before the sleep of winter. Spider webs covered the bushes, bright rainbows reflecting on gossamer threads, death waiting patiently in the center. Patient, silent, like the shadow shape pausing before the final game.

_And I might be getting delirious again. _

A squirrel started chattering at them, complaining of their slow passage through the forest. Dean could see the small creature at the edge of a limb, a pinecone dropped and other, the trail littered green and brown with the cones. He could see another squirrel running between the trees a pinecone in its mouth. The bright blue and black birds were chattering back there, somewhere, among the trees, talking amongst themselves. The forest was filled with life, with movement, with sound, as if it knew what was coming, preparing itself to hide, to withdraw to safety when the dark shape began to move.

This was its night, and every living thing knew it would come. There was a tension in the sunlit forest, the golden leaves spattered with red light like tiny droplets of blood, the trees streaked with damp, with darkness, a touch of it as it had moved through them, scarring, pulling life away and leaving its empty silence behind.

The final moment was coming. It was waiting for night, for the triumph of the dark. It would come, seeking its prey, seeking the one it wanted, coming to take everything before it took life. It was ready. The forest knew that, the sounds growing muted slightly, as if it were grieving for the moment that would come, as if it sensed the violence waiting there, somewhere, silent, patient, eternal.

The sun was beginning to drop in the sky. They had reached a fairly open area, the undergrowth taken by a fire. The trees standing white against the forest like solitary bones driven into the landscape. There was a large rock nearly in the center, tall enough to lean against, a slight overhang to keep some of the rain off.

Sam steered them off the path towards the rock, carefully stepping over the dead wood, corpses of small tress, scattered throughout the clearing. Leaves, where they rested on the ground seemed dark, nearly black, the lost remnants of the living trees, blown here when all color was gone. The solitary rock stood like a sentinel, a watcher in the woods, keeping the living, watching the dead. It was ancient, carried there long millennia before by the retreating ice that had once covered the landscape. It had seen generations come and go. It was waiting, like the rest of the forest, for the dark shadow to return.

Sam carefully leaned Dean against the rock, handing him the torch he had been carrying in a nearly lax hand. Dean took it from him and watched as Sam staggered out into the clearing gathering wood for their fire, slow, each time he reached for the ground Dean could see him flinch, each time he stood the mask of pain like a death mask, covering his features.

Dean lowered himself to the ground, carefully preparing the wood around them for the fire. He made a fairly large circle, hoping that the center of their shelter could be well away from those seeking claws. Sam finally sat down beside him, helping him build the fire, preparing to light it to keep the dark away. Sam pushed the torch in several times, waiting as the tinder caught then moving to a new spot, the fire blazed up around them sparks moving up through the dead trees.

Sam pulled their can out of the pack and filled it with water. They had stopped by a stream and refilled the one bottle they had left. He cut up some of the beef jerky from the bottom of the pack and dropped it in. He smiled at Dean. "Dean's special stew, right?" His voice was barely there.

"Yeah, stew. Good," he looked at Sam. "Your voice?"

"Throats just sore, Dean, that's all, the stew will probably help," he sighed. "You know it would be kind of nice to know what plants we could eat or use to make tea or something."

Dean laughed, Sam looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I was thinking that earlier. Maybe we should take a class, might come in handy sometime."

"Yeah, Dean, if we were ever going into the woods again."

"Which we're not."

"Nope, never again," Sam said with a smile. He leaned back against the rock, closing his eyes.

Dean pulled the can out of the fire and poured the soup into their cup, he leaned back beside his brother, he leaned against his brother. "Good stew, Sam," he said taking a sip and then handing the cup to Sam.

"Yeah, great recipe, Dean. We'll have to make it when we get back."

"Sure, cause this is better than pizza any day." He closed his eyes. The pain in his ankle was almost more than he could bear and the cold had seeped slowly up until it was spreading like a film of ice across his chest. The wound it had made in his side was throbbing, cold, intense, burning. It was slowly pulling his life away, taking him into the cold even before it came.

And he knew. This was part of its game, an opening gambit before the armies marched. A sliver of darkness before the light was taken away.

_It's going to come for me tonight. This is it, end game, the final battle. It is coming, it plans on taking me, I think it plans on taking Sam, only to test me before it comes. This is a war it has been waiting for. It has been waiting a long time for this, and I think it is going to take its time, but this is where the end begins._

He hadn't noticed Sam gently pulling his pant leg up, off the ankle, exposing that dark wound. He didn't notice until he heard Sam's involuntary gasp. He turned to look at his brother. Sam's face was a mixture of revulsion, fear and grief. Grief was gaining the upper hand. Tears were filling his eyes, still unshed, but there making his eyes seem bright in the firelight.

Dean looked down where his brother's hand rested warm against the icy wound. Sam's hand a tiny touch of life on the death that was growing there, reaching up, slowly filling him with the black tendrils. He could see, blending with the black, the first streaks of red winding up his leg, a tapestry of death woven on his body.

He looked up into Sam's eyes. _What can I say? How can I fix this? I don't think I can, sorry Sam, a little sooner than expected. _The tears spilled over, down Sam's face, cutting tiny tracks through the dirt on his brother's cheeks. Dean looked away from the grief on his brother's face, a grief he knew, something he understood. Something unendurable.

He looked out at the night, his brother's hand was still resting on his leg, as if he could hold death at bay. Dean sighed, the tears overflowing his eyes as well. A wisp of memory. _How did that go? I remember hearing it at that strange temple dad stopped at. For what I have done, for what I have left undone, for what I have said, for what I have left unsaid—forgive me. Forgive me Sam._

Something tugged at his awareness. He knew. He listened as life died all around him, taken into silence. The forest had grown dark, the stars withdrawn from it. Their eyes had looked down as it had walked the dark places of the earth, they knew what it was, what was coming and they looked away. Dark was complete, the ring of fire a tiny splash in an ocean of night. Nothing was moving, even the wind was silent, holding its breath waiting for the shadow shape.

It was ready, finally coming. The dark shape was sliding through the forest, the soft sigh pleased, moving forward, seeking its prey. Happy, content, the war was joined, the armies would march, the bodies would feed the ground with their spilled blood. It feasted here, the soul taken before the life, pleasure in the hunt, pleasure in the game, pleasure in the kill, when finally it came.

It had waited for this for a long time. It was coming now, seeking the fire, small against its darkness, seeking its prey. It would play, it would wound, it would finally know him completely and then, at last, end it. The time had come.

It reached out through the night, long before its purring sound reached their ears, and touched him, It caressed him with its darkness, the cold filling him. It was in his mind, he could feel it there, twining through him like the black poison flowing up from the wound it had made. It wanted to know him, it wanted to know his pain, his fear.

It wanted him to know it.

A sliver of knowledge slid into him, a knife so sharp the wound was unfelt at first. The dark night of it, the blood, the madness it promised slipped into him. And rested there for a moment. Just a moment before beginning to withdraw the edges now jagged pulling bits of him away.

He screamed, grabbing at his head, trying to tear the visions from his eyes. Sam held his hands down away from where he had torn his face. He thought he could hear Sam shouting his name. All he knew, all he heard for sure, was the sound of its voice sighing, singing to him, softly, singing the lullaby of death.

It was coming.

It withdrew from his mind, pulling away at last. He tried to focus on his brother, tried to escape the horror he had seen. Sam looked wild, he was still holding his hands. Dean saw his own nails red with blood. He looked into his brother's eyes and held them, seeking sanity, seeking warmth away from the unending cold.

It was coming, the final battle joined, the armies were marching, war had come.

And Dean knew, the realization hard, cold as ice. Reaching into his soul, finding the horror, finding the wound it had left there. He knew, this was the end and the fear froze into terror, the pain, the never ending agony burned him and the rage drove him to his feet. It was time to end this. The battle had been joined. The dark shadow was slipping slowly towards him, its song a keening sound filling the forest with a plaintive howl. Death was coming and the horror it had visited upon him was threatening madness. It was the end.

He screamed, wordless, the battle cry of the ages. Challenging, defending. He screamed into the night.

_This war ends now._

_** To Be Continued**  
_


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I would like to thank Abni for patience, loving guidance, 3 a.m. nights and the insight that has helped this story become what it is!_

**Screaming for Vengeance**

Chapter Twelve

Sam looked out across the clearing where they rested, they were surrounded by death. Dead trees reaching like fingers into the sky. The ground littered with the remains of life, long gone, dry, dusty, dead. He could still hear the small sounds of life in the forest, muted now with the coming of night. The day shifting into darkness.

His voice had been slowly fading throughout the day, he could feel the sound slowly pulled from him like the shadow shape took the sound from the forest. His body was beginning to fail again, like his voice, like the slowly dying light of evening.

Sam knew what would come with the night. He was waiting for the silence to descend. It was coming, this was its night.

He looked over at Dean, his brother smiled at him and handed him the cup of soup they were sharing. "Good stew, Sam."

Sam smiled back, "Yeah, great recipe Dean. We'll have to make it when we get back." _Because we will get back Dean, we will. I promise._

"Sure, cause this is better than pizza any day," Dean said closing his eyes. Sam looked over at his brother, Dean was focused elsewhere, lost in his own thoughts.

Sam carefully reached over, trying not to disturb Dean, trying not to let him know what he was doing. He gently slid Dean's pant leg up to look at the wound Dean had showed him the night before. The wound was dark, like the congealed remnants of ancient blood. Black tendrils were twining up Dean's leg like a poison vine, red streaks mingling with the black, a garden of death. _Oh, god, no. _He gasped, the sound forced out of him as if he had been punched.

Dean turned to look at him. Sam felt tears in his eyes. _He knows, he knows he's dying, he knows its coming for him. He knows this is the end. No. Dean, No. _Sam looked down again, put his hand down on his brother's ankle. The wound felt cold, icy cold, but Sam could feel the heat radiating from the infection lurking below that dark wound. He felt his brother's death, resting there under his hand. The end of hope, the end of life, the end for his brother. He looked back up at Dean. His brother's eyes were bright with tears reflected in the firelight, sparkling droplets that gently spilled down Dean's face.

Dean looked away.

Sam watched him, watched his face as he looked out over the dead clearing, as he looked out into the night where death waited in the dark. Sam left his hand on Dean's leg, willing the poison away, willing it out of his brother the way the rage had forced the venom from Sam. Nothing changed, just the cold hand of death, its fingers curling around Sam's hand.

Sam looked up, silence was falling throughout the forest, the curtain dropping down, the small noises of life lost in that great velvet soundlessness. He looked out over the clearing, out into the dark forest, waiting to hear the sound of its approach. He glanced at Dean. His brother's head was cocked as if he were listening to a far off voice, hard to hear, at the very edge of awareness. He was listening. Sam held his breath, straining to catch whatever it was his brother could hear. Nothing, just the vast silence.

"Dean?" He said softly, his brother was lost, listening to that other voice. "Dean?" He looked at Dean, his brother's eyes were unfocused, Sam saw horror reflected there. Whatever Dean could see was terrifying, unimaginable. Dean screamed and grabbed at his head, pulling his hair, trying to rip the thoughts away. His hands were twisted, clawing at his eyes. _Visions, he's having visions. Oh my god, what is he seeing?_ He left bloody streaks down his face. _Oh my god, he's trying to tear his eyes out, what can he be seeing?__What is it doing to him? _"DEAN!" Sam grabbed his hands, pulling them away, holding them, trying to calm his brother, trying to pull him back the way Dean had helped him back from nightmare visions. _Dean hang on, they'll pass, just hang on. I know it's bad, but just hang on, don't let them take you!_

Dean looked up and what Sam saw there stopped his heart. "DEAN!" He tried to pull his brother back from the edge of the abyss of madness he could see in his eyes. "Dean?" He held onto Dean's hands, offering an anchor, something for Dean to cling onto, to steady him. His brother's eyes slowly focused on him, the horror still there, but also back with Sam a tiny bit.

A shrieking howl flowed over the forest. Like a song, like a death chant, singing his brother's death. Dean stood, his body propelled up and he screamed again, a wordless scream, a challenge, calling it out, calling it to him, the call echoed through the vast recesses of history. It was a challenge that had issued forth from a thousand throats, called out of hundreds of fields of battle. This was the moment when they recognized each other and the battle could begin. Dean stood looking out into the darkness as the long shriek rose then died out, silence rushing in to fill the void.

Sam stood up and gently turned Dean's face to him. Forcing his eyes to meet his brother's. "Dean?"

Dean blinked coming back from a long way, back to the clearing, back to the present, but just for a moment. "Sam?"

Sam looked at Dean, at the bloody streaks in his face. _I need to clean those, I need to help him._ Sam tried to ignore the soft sound that was slowly approaching. _No time, it will have to wait until after this is over. I can take care of him then._ The snarling breath, coming ever closer, seeking his brother, seeking their lives to take away with it, back to the dark recesses of the earth.

"Dean?" He said trying to draw his brother back to him. His brother's knees started to buckle, Sam caught him and gently set him down

Dean looked at him, his eyes still vague, "Sam?" He smiled, sadness, fear, pain in the smile. "Its coming, I need to go."

"No, Dean. You are not facing it alone."

"I have to Sam, if I don't go it will come for me, it will take you first," he sighed.

"Dean," _Time to tell the truth, Dean. No lies now. _"It's going to take me, if you go out it will come here first, if you wait it will come."

"Sam…" Dean was shaking his head, trying to deny that, Sam could see that he knew the truth.

"It's ok, Dean."

"No, Sammy, I can't…" he pushed himself up, leaning heavily against the rock.

Sam stood up beside his brother, he could hear the soft sigh approaching, ever closer, the forest cringing as it came. "Too late, Dean." He looked over at his brother. "Together."

And it moved on, getting closer, sighing softly, dark against the night.

It was coming.

It was pleased.

The battle was about to begin.

**XXX**

The soft snarling breath began to fill the forest, slowly becoming the pleased purr. It was taking its time, it had waited for this, silent, patient, it had watched from the dark for so long. It would take its time. This was the moment, chosen so long before. The prey, the battle, it was good. A soft note sounded through the silence as if it had le go a breath held for many ages.

It had waited patiently throughout the long ages of the earth, carefully choosing its prey, knowing them, understanding what fear, what terror looked like through their eyes, knowing their pain before it came to create the final agony, the last horror, that it had visited upon the many fields of death it had walked. It was ready.

The long wait was slowly ending, the battlefields it had once walked long gone. This new age brought different warriors, other prey. Some had been worthy, others not. This one who challenged it now, who stood wounded yet defiant rose above the others. It had watched this one for many years, knowing him, testing him. The dark would take him and it would be a victory it had not known in a millennium.

Dean could hear its approach the soft sighing purr, the snarl humming to itself, the music of battle, the song of death. It was there again, reaching into his mind, the knife sharp edge of that touch driving him ever closer to the chasm of madness. It let him see through its eyes, let him have a tiny sliver of memory, of what it had known, what it had done, what it created. The great terror of the ages, horror that even the things of the darkest night fled.

The shaft of knowledge, sliding into him. The pain of the vision filling him, driving him ever closer to madness, ever closer to the moment when it would tear the life from him. It let him see how it chose its prey, seeking them throughout the ages, knowing them. It learned their weaknesses, it fought their strengths, always moving forward always learning more so the final moment of battle was a moment of ecstasy. So many had fallen and each unique, each special, each so pleasing as it finally tore them from the earth.

And it was coming for him.

It let him see some of what it intended, some of the vast pleasure it had over the many years it had tracked him, knowing him, the lives it had ripped away. He saw them, the many dead left rotting in the wake of its silent passage. The grief, the fear they had known before it tore them away, before it left its prey bereft of all they loved, all they knew. And the final image, Sam. His brother torn away, broken, so it could face him here, this final game, this end of an endless battle.

It was coming for him.

It would take his brother, revel in his torture, in his death. It would feast on Dean's soul, pulling it away bit by bit, tearing out slices of whatever sanity remained until he was ready to beg it to take his life, ending the agony it was visiting upon him. And he knew it would wait an instant longer, even as he begged. It would wait, drawing out the pleasure, pausing, savoring that final blow.

It was coming for him.

He looked over at Sam. His brother smiled at him. His earlier promise of "together" evident in his eyes. Dean was desperate to push his brother away, push Sam behind him so he could use his body to shield his brother, and he knew it wouldn't work. _I don't think it will allow me to take Sam out of this. And Sam won't allow that either. Have I mentioned that really annoys me Sammy? You need to learn to listen when I tell you to get the hell out!_

"Dean?" His brother said, his voice a soft whisper. _Yeah, sure you strained your voice, Sam. That damn venom is moving again, isn't it?_

"Yeah, Sam?" Keeping his voice normal, as if this was something they faced everyday.

"Any ideas?"

Dean smiled, feral, wild. "Yeah." _If I say something will it know? If I think it will it know? How can I keep the thought from it but let Sam know?_

Sam smiled back with his hunter's smile. It always reminded Dean of their father. Their eyes met and Dean saw understanding dawning in Sam's eyes. "Yeah, that might work," he said softly.

"That's my boy, Sammy."

Sam bent over, the pain touching his face like the light from the fire. He picked up one burning branch and then another handing them to Dean before picking up two for himself. The branches were warm where they had been in the fire. Their heat serving to push back the icy fingers curling through Dean's chest, slowly pulling the life away. With cold came with pain, agony, burning with its own intensity threatening to over take him.

It was coming, he could see the dark shadow shape now, moving in front of the white trees. A black ooze of blood staining their bone trunks. The soft sigh was happy, the satisfied song of fulfillment present in that soft snarl. Its song wove through Dean's mind, the death chant of a thousand warriors that had stood before it and had been pulled away, taken with it into the silent dark.

Sam stepped closer, he moved the torches into one hand and put his other over Dean's shoulders, pulling his brother tight against him. Dean put his head briefly on his brother's shoulder, resting, drawing strength for the final moment. They stood that way for several long minutes as it approached, slowly, singing clearly now. Ready.

The shadow shape was there before them, the claws glinting darkly in the firelight. It was grunting, sighing, laughing at them as they stood ready to defend each other.

Dean pulled away from Sam and looked at his brother. Sam smiled. Dean nodded.

It waited, standing there in front of the fire, watching them. It stabbed into Dean's mind a shaft of pain, horror, visions that drove him down again, onto his knees. It showed him how small they seemed standing before it, lost in the immensity of the dark. Their pathetic attempt to defend life, shoulder to shoulder as many had stood before it. Together, briefly, before it tore them apart, wrenching them from each other, shattering their lives. He screamed, dropping one of the torches. Sam had his hand under Dean's arm, trying to pull him back up.

Play had begun.

Dean managed to stand again. Leaning slightly against Sam, staring over the fire at the darkness there, black against the night, pulling the light of the fire into itself. Nothing could escape that touch, that darkness. Sam pushed Dean behind him and it struck, the great claws swinging above the fire, reaching in and catching Sam easily. Tossing him over the fire out into the dark littered with death.

"NO!" Dean yelled, swinging the burning branch. The torch connected with the shadow shape, giving Dean a fleeting sight of it. Teeth and claws, darkness visible and the eyes, dead, nothingness, the depths of fear, somehow reflected there. It screamed, it was a different sound, a new challenge. It had been hurt and it was furious, it was happy, the prey was playing as none had played in many an age.

It turned its back on Dean, moving towards Sam. Dean could hear his brother out there beyond the fire, struggling to rise. He could hear the soft moan of pain becoming a scream as it found his brother and made him into a toy, a plaything to torture.

"Sam!" Dean dropped one of the torches, desperately grabbing something to use as a crutch and propelled himself out beyond the fire, out to his brother and the shadow shape.

"Dean, no, stay back." Sam shouted, his voice coming out harsh with effort, grating with pain.

"You want me, come for me," he screamed at it. He sensed it had turned to face him again, dropping Sam like a doll onto the broken ground. It was coming for him. It was ready. It approached, the soft snarling sigh slowing down. Dean couldn't see Sam, the night was pitch black, no light beyond their ring of fire, behind them now, seeming safety that might has well been a million miles from them. It was waiting, watching. It was laughing with its menacing joy now that it had begun.

It was there in front of him, waiting for his next move, waiting to see what it could do before the end. _And I'm not playing anymore. This ends now. You want me, take me, but I'm not playing. Take me, leave my brother. Will you play that way? _Dean lifted his head in defiance and dropped the burning torch to the ground. He saw the claws lift, he heard the soft noise they made as they swung through the air. _This is it, the end. Goodbye Sammy._

He was knocked to the ground, his brother on top of him. The claws swept by, not making contact, moving into the night. It shrieked in rage. The terrible claws reached down and pulled Sam away from him. Back into the night. He heard his brother hit the ground, heard the moan of pain, then nothing. "Sam!" He yelled hoping for a noise, anything to let him know his brother was alive.

There was only silence. _Sam? Sam are you there? Why the hell did you do that, god damn it Sam, no. No, please, no. _"SAM!" His brother's name was torn from him in an anguished scream.

It was coming for him again, it was coming through the dark. It was close now, so close he could feel the soft sigh of its breath on his cheek. It was happy. The soft song filled his mind, trapping him, taking movement as surely as it would take life. As it reached out with its claws, gently, ever so gently touching his face, the tips dragging a line of fire down his cheeks onto his neck. The claw had paused, waiting by the indentation of his clavicle. It waited, gently pushing downwards, the movement so slow his body didn't register the pain at first, slowly, slowly the scythe pressed down, slowly the poison moved out from that touch.

He couldn't move, the cold venom was filtering into him, twining with the tendrils coming up from his leg. The black poison, ancient, unknowable, moving through his body tracing a path of agony across his life. Unendurable, unending, it held him there, singing to him, slowly taking his soul.

He thought he heard a scream, a shout, a warrior's cry coming to battle. He thought he saw light, an explosion of flame behind it. He thought he felt warmth reaching out, touching him driving the cold away for a moment. It was enraged, it turned pulling the claw from him, he dropped to the ground as the fire approached him, burning through the clearing. Hands pulled him up, dragging him from the fire spreading towards the dark shadow shape. Sam lifted him away from the dark, away from the flames, the flickering heat, pulling him towards their shelter, back to seeming safety.

"Dean?" His brother was cradling him, holding back the night.

"Sam?" No sound, just a soft sigh. "Good job."

"Dean hang on, once the fire is out, I'll get you out of here."

"Sure, Sam," He relaxed into his brother's arms, safe, a brief warmth before the cold came for him.

It was screaming caught in the fire, a scream of pain, of rage filled the forest. A scream that it had not uttered for a millennium. It was wounded, it was enraged, it was happy. Its scream filled with laughter. It was pleased. This was better, so much better than it had hoped. The long wait had been worth it. The fire was swirling around it, bright against the dark. And still it waited, moving out to the edge of the flame, reveling in the pain, filling itself with rage, filling itself with the pain, the terror it brought. It was happy.

"Dean?' Sam said looking down at him.

"Yeah?" Silent now.

"Hang on," he said tears on his face.

"Trying, Sam. I'm trying."

The fire was running its course in the clearing, the flames were dying, the cracking fire silenced in the night. Dean saw Sam look up out beyond their fire, out where the embers were still smoldering. He saw fear touch his brother face. Sam put him down, gently, and stood, grabbing a burning branch, placing himself between it and his fallen brother.

_No, Sam, no. This isn't how it's supposed to be._

Something passed in front of his brother's eyes. Dean recognized it and fear filled him, fear for his brother as he saw it touch Sam's mind. He saw the horror reflected in Sam's eyes, the things he had seen when it was in him. Sam screamed driven to his knees, one hand clutching at his head.

In that instant the great claws reached out, through the fire, into the circle of light. The claws touched him, reached into him. He felt his brother grab at him, desperate, trying to hold on to his hand, clinging to his life. Dean looked up, meeting his brother's eyes. _Sam, let me go, let it take me, let this end here, now._

"No, Dean. Not like this, the fight isn't over. We aren't finished yet," his brother said softly, desperately, pleading with Dean to save his own life, his voice overpowering its purr of pleasure

"Sammy," he said his voice a gentle wisp of sound. "I'm finished, let it take me, let me go." His hand was slipping from Sam as he released his grip on his brother

And he knew, the realization flowing through him like the poison, like the death that hovered there above the flames. This was the end, the battle was over, the war ended. It had finally come, not to fight, not to play, but to collect its trophy and carry it off to the bloody feast, the hall of the slain, the warriors it had met, the souls it had taken. The fear was gone, the rage drained from him as surely as his life, all that was left was soft resignation that this sacrifice would end the war.

"DEAN!" He heard his brother scream. "This isn't finished!"

_Goodbye little brother, be safe._

_**To Be Continued**_


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Not death fic, not death fic, not death fic. Thank you Abni! I'm speechless with gratitude. Sorry for the slow update, power outage!_

**Screaming for Vengeance**_  
_

Chapter Thirteen

It was there in front of Sam. He could see unending night standing between him and his brother, keeping Dean trapped, separated from Sam. He could just make out Dean's shirt and his brother's face, light in the inky night. He could hear the soft sighing purr singing in the night, singing to his brother, weaving his brother's death on the notes of its soft song.

_No, Dean, not like this. No. _

Sam picked himself up, moving back to their shelter, creeping back unnoticed, it was distracted, focused on Dean. Sam slipped to the fire and carefully, slowly, lifted a burning branch, and another and another. He flung himself towards where it held his brother and threw the flaming branches down onto the ground, down where the shriveled remains of the dead forest lay. "NO!" He shouted into the night, at the dark shadow shape holding his brother.

The ground slowly caught, flickering in the night, then, suddenly, flame exploded outward as if the forest wished to drive it from the woods, as if even the lost remnants of the trees wanted to send it back to the dark night it had come from. The fire spread outwards, toward where it stood, light against the untouched dark. It sighed, the rush of pleasure, of anticipation clear in that soft voice. The shadow shape shifted, flickering in the fire.

Sam saw Dean collapse. He raced forward through the fire, forcing his body into movement to get to his brother. He grabbed Dean and pulled him up, dragging him towards their shelter, away from where it was standing in the flames. He dropped to the ground, pulling Dean against him, holding him in his arms, letting his brother's head rest against his shoulder. "Dean?"

"Sam?' Dean's eyes focused on him, there was no strength left in his voice. "Good job," he said with a gentle smile.

"Dean, hang on, once the fire is out I'll get you out of here."

"Sure, Sam," he said as he relaxed in Sam's arms.

It was screaming in fury, he could hear the rage and the pleasure in the shriek as it stood in the flames, burning. He knew it was watching him, learning something of him as he held his brother. Sam looked down at Dean and saw the black tendrils slowly curling out from Dean's neck, slowly spinning the poison through his brother, the dark lines tracing a pattern, making a map of death on Dean's body. _Oh, god, no. Dean. How can I stop this? How can I help?_

"Dean," he said looking down at his brother. _Just give me time to get us out of here, please hang on._

"Yeah?" His brother's voice was a mere wisp of sound.

"Hang on." _Come on Dean, hang on. _He could feel the tears as they ran down his face.

"Trying, Sam. I'm trying."

Sam looked up from Dean, out over the fire, out into the clearing. The fire he had set was dying down, he could see the dark shape at the edge of the flickering flames, taking the light into itself, screaming its pleasure. Sam knew it was coming again. He heard the soft sigh and the crackling explosions as it slipped over the sparking embers as it began to move towards them. _No, not again. You are not taking him. This ends now. _He gently set Dean down. He stood, placing himself between his brother's body and the approaching shadow. He held a burning branch before him, a primitive, archaic weapon to drive back the night, the light from the flame playing on his face as he stood waiting for it to come.

_No, you don't get him. No. I will stop you._

Something slipped into his mind. Something soft, something sharp, something dark, it slid into him. He felt it expand, filling him—he was seeing visions of death, of the ages it had walked the earth, the things it had seen, the lives it had touched. Visions of horrors it had brought. Visions of the plans it had made, many years before, and how it had followed his brother, knowing him, planning for this final moment. Sam saw it all. But he saw more. He saw what it planned, he saw what it would do. He saw what it intended for his brother. That horror drove him down, clutching his head, screaming in agony, shouting his defiance.

In that instant the claws reached through fire. It slid the great curved blades into Dean and began pulling him away, out of the fire, away from Sam. He dropped the branch and grabbed his brother's hand, holding him, trying to keep him there, feeling Dean slipping away.

"No Dean. Not like this, the fight isn't over. We aren't finished yet." _Dean just hang on, please just hang on to me._

"Sammy," and there was nothing left in his brother's voice, just the soft whisper of a sigh. "I'm finished, let it take me, let me go." Dean squeezed his hand in farewell and let go.

_No Dean, no. It's not over, it lied to you. If it takes you it is the beginning not the end. _Sam knew, as surely as if Dean had told him that was what it had let Dean think. But Sam had seen a little more, something had allowed him to see a little further into it. He knew what would come now, death would rain down, the horrors it had once brought would come again and it could revel in the world, knowing it, walking it, bringing blood to water the flowers of death.

"DEAN! This isn't finished!" He shouted to the night, to his brother as he was dragged away. Sam started after it desperate to get to his brother. He tripped, stumbling over the pack, he grabbed it, picked up a burning branch and set out into the dark night, following the sound of his brother's body as it was dragged through the silent forest.

They were going upwards, ever upwards. The hill was steep and unending. Sam was forcing his body to keep going, each step was harder, each moment was becoming a frozen second of pain. He kept going. Rage was moving him on, keeping him warm, holding the venom it had sent into his body away. He kept going. _I need to find Dean, I need to get to Dean. I need to find him, I need to get to him. _He could still feel his brother's hand squeezing his and then letting go, willingly going into the night, hoping to end this. _Dean, this isn't finished. _

He kept going on. The ground was deeply scarred as if great claws had torn the earth apart, ripping the earth open, leaving it wounded. Jagged stones rose before him, like a great temple. Their presence marking the opening into the earth itself, their broken, shattered sides a reflection of the violence of the moment of their birth. The stones, some huge, were blocking Sam, holding him back from the terror behind them, from the horror they hid from the eyes of the world.

It was beginning to get light, Sam glimpsed the dark shadow moving away from him. In the steadily growing light he could see his brother as he was dragged like a rag doll behind a child. Suddenly they disappeared into the mountain, swallowed up by the darkness of the earth. Sam ran to the void that had taken his brother.

There was no sound but a far away drop of water.

There was no light except the sunrise behind him, bathing the blackened landscape in rays of deep red flowing over the rocky ground like the blood of a thousand years.

"DEAN!" He yelled into the cave, he screamed across the landscape, willing his brother to answer, he paused.

There was nothing, no life, no sound, only the blood red light.

**XXX**

"Dean! This isn't finished!" Dean heard his brother scream as he was pulled into the dark, the great claws tearing into his flesh, the pain radiating out, trying to take his life. He hoped he would lose consciousness, he willed his body to let go, but somehow the black poison slowly filling his body with the fetid death would not let him leave. He must stay, must suffer, must not go until it was ready to let him go.

_Which is just great. Dragged through the night, bleeding, hitting my head over and over again and I get to hang around for all of it. Just freaking great. If I'd known I would have had Sammy shoot me or something. What happened to my gun? I dropped it last night I think. Was that only last night? Oh god, it hurts. _

_Sam, are you ok? Just go, get yourself safe. Please let Sam be ok. _

_Where are we going? Up another hill I think. Oh god it hurts, let it end soon. How many hills are in this forest? I wonder if there's cell reception on top of a big one, Sam would know, he knows stuff like that. Are you ok? Sam? You had better be getting out of here or I'll haunt your ass. Oh, please let this stop soon._

The ground had changed. Instead of the soft pine needles and cold mud he had been pulled through, now there were rocks, jagged, cutting into him as if he were dragged across broken glass. His hands were sliced as they moved across the black stones.

He tried to see it, tried to get a glimpse of what had pulled him through the night, what had torn him from his brother, what had hunted him for years. He could see nothing, just the great shadow shape moving through the landscape, pulling him to his death.

_That's funny, it looked almost like light back behind us. Sunrise must be coming soon. No, it looked different, like it was moving, flickering. What is that? Sam? No, Sam, no. Turn around. Go back. Don't be a damned fool about this, Sammy. This is over, I'm finished, there's no way out for me anymore, its in my mind. Sam? It hurts, I can't stand it anymore, I just want it finished, I'm sorry. Go back, please Sam. Oh god, let it be finished, let this end, please let it end._

He was dragged away from the light, he watched the gray sky disappear above him, replaced by complete darkness, the unending night from whence it came, the place where it waited and watched. It pulled him deep into the bowels of the earth. And it paused there in that place of silence, of unrelieved night, and he felt himself dropped down onto the unforgiving ground.

The darkness was complete, no light had touched the place where he lay since the beginning of time. It was a place of eternal night, a place without sound, without life. The shadow walked there, keeping its kingdom, lurking patiently in that web of the earth, silent, watching, driving all else away. Nothing else moved here, nothing would come here. Even the things that brought terror to the world would not enter this dark kingdom.

Dean tried, and failed, to push himself over, his body was no longer his own. All that was left, all that remained was the icy cold agony burning through him. He had no voice, he had no body, only the pain. It was taking everything. He could feel the last pieces of himself slipping away, his soul seeping with his blood into the cold ground, pulled away into the void.

It was coming. He could hear the soft sigh approaching, moving towards him. It was coming. He could hear the song now, filling the cavern where he lay, the sound amplified by the walls until it was a living thing, a creature that drove this mind screaming from it. It was the song of terror. It was a song of pleasure. The sound was physical now, moving through his body, tracing the lines of the poison, igniting them into line of molten pain. He screamed, there was no sound, just the scream reverberating through his brain, the scream begging it to let this end.

It was there.

He felt it beside him, he sensed it standing there. It snuffled softly, lovingly. It was happy. It had waited a long time for this, it was going to make this last. He felt its breath on his face, cold, a blast of wind from the frozen depths. It placed one of the claws on his head, gently against his forehead, the sharp point poised above his eyes, resting there, waiting, just a gentle touch of a sharpened needle.

Its mind slid into his again, at first gently like the claw holding him down, then stabbing in with violence, wounding, seeking. His body arched against the invasion, trying to force it out, trying to end the pain.

_Please let me die._

And still it held him, the visions pounding into his head. Horror after horror there before eyes that he couldn't close. And still that gentle claw holding him down. It finally started to pull away, taking pieces of him with it like the flesh it had taken when it had pulled its claws away.

_Please let this end._

It bent over him again. Snuffling, purring like a kitten. It touched him with the claw, drawing a line across his throat, slicing even so carefully. It tasted his blood. Still it waited. The song began again. The final horror was coming.

_NO! _He screamed. _Let this end. Take me and let this end. _

And it moved away, back into the dark, moving into the depths of the earth. He heard the soft sigh as it disappeared. He sensed it there, somewhere beyond him, waiting for something, watching for something. And he knew, the realization filling him with horrors yet unseen. _It tricked me, this isn't the end, this is the beginning. It will come for Sam, it will take him, it will destroy everything._

And he heard its song, he heard its laughter. He understood it finally and it was pleased.

His mind screamed in desperation at the thought, the sound filling every fiber of his being, merging with the black poison, pulling him closer to the edge. The song wound around him like the tendrils of black death, moving through him carving paths of pain through him, until, suddenly, another sound began to push into his awareness. He couldn't identify it, couldn't force his mind back to focus on that sound. He was finally slipping, the agony was finally taking him away, he could feel the cold rising up, preparing to pull him away into the ice. He was ready. But still the black death in his body waited, pausing, holding him at the threshold of that long night. He willed it to come, begged it to come faster.

"Dean!' The voice cut into him, pulling him back from the edge.

_Sammy? Sammy?_

Light flickered against his eyelids. He felt his brother's hand against his neck. "No, Dean. No." And his brother was crying, sobbing. "NO! " he screamed, Dean could feel the rage pulsing out of Sam, filling the chamber as the sound of vengeances echoed around him. "YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER, YOU DIE FOR THIS!"

_Sam, I'm still here, I think. Sam?_ He heard his brother moving away. _No, Sam, please, please don't leave me here in the dark. Not alone in the dark, Sam. _

Suddenly he could hear Sam moving, could see the light shifting. _SAM! _Warmth was spreading through the cave, it was getting lighter against his closed eyes. Something touched his leg, warm then hot, melting the ice flowing over his body, a small touch of spring in never ending winter. His leg jumped, he felt it move.

He sensed movement beside him. "Dean?" He felt Sam put his hand down on his chest, the point of contact warm, comforting, pushing the cold away a little more. "Oh god, Dean. You're alive. You're alive." Dean felt himself lifted, held gently against his brother. "I'll get us out of here."

It was coming, Dean sensed it, felt it reach out to him once more, sliding the knife sharp edge of its mind into him, forcing him to see, forcing him to share its moment. _No, no. _It was watching his brother carrying him out of the cave, looking across the fire Sam had set, blocking its way. He felt its desire to consume him, to keep him there in the darkness, holding him trapped in the unceasing moment of pain. He was outside, Sam set him on the ground, propping him against his body, his arms cradling him, supporting him. And he felt it laugh as it watched. He could never escape.

It paused by the fire, looking across to him, looking from his eyes, letting him see through its eyes. It stepped into the fire, the death Sam had set willingly faced, a test for itself, the boundaries of its mortality broken. It was enraged that it had been slowed, it struck out, hitting at him, forcing its mind ever deeper into him, pulling his soul away—it would take Dean with it. It would force him to share its moment in this bright sparking death.

Pain, agony, a burning line of fire filled his mind. His body reacted, pulling away from the pain, from the visions, from the touch of fire slowly tracing into its flesh. It was screaming, he could hear it as it tore through the earth. He could feel it there, reaching out to him, the flames, the light of the fire torturing it, torturing him.

"Dean! DEAN!" His brother's voice, pulling him back, pulling him away from the deathly flames.

He struggled towards his brother, fighting the pain, trying to drive back the black poison still tracing its way through him, still pulling his life away in a dance of death. _Sam, I don't know if I can. _

"Dean! Your leg, oh my god, your leg," Sam said, desperation and _What is that Sam? _joy in his brother's voice. "I have an idea." He put Dean down and moved away. He was back a minute later. "This might hurt."

_Hurt, Sam? I'm not sure I even know what that means anymore. What are you doing? Sam? What the hell are you doing? Sam? It's ok, you got me out, it's ok. You're ok, and that's what matters._

Suddenly heat was pressed against his leg. Fire burning against him like it had consumed the dark shadow. The pain ripped up from his ankle, spreading out in fingers of agony, a web of unending, unremitting pain. It exploded through him, tearing him away, driving the dark out of him in a blaze of white hot pain. And the realization curled through him like the pain, the fear finally leaving him as the black tendrils were ripped from his body. It was gone, his mind, his soul were his own again. The rage flowed out of him with its touch, the fire slowly dying down. He stopped fighting and he could feel Sam's arms around him, holding him. At last the gentle dark could come, he sank down into the night and all was silent.

_It has ended, thank you Sam._

**To Be Continued**


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. _

**Screaming for Vengeance**

Chapter Fourteen

Sam stood before the opening in the earth that had swallowed his brother, pulling Dean away, out of the light. He paused there, listening. He could hear the soft sighing purr as it moved deeper into the black void. He thought it had stopped, the sound wasn't moving away from him any longer.

Then its song began. It poured out of the dark wound in the earth like blood from a great gash. It filled the empty landscape around him, the rocks humming in sympathy with the sound. It was singing to Dean, singing the chant, death held forever on a single note.

Sam looked around him, dawn was beginning to creep across the sky. Bright bands of flame running across the sky, bathing the forest in the colors of autumn leaves. Far off in the forest he heard a plaintive song, some denizen of the woods braving the silence to welcome the sun. He could hear the chatter of a squirrel, calling out over the forest, its voice defiant. The ground around him was littered with black stones, sharp jagged knives filling the garden before the void, the rocks like flowers of frozen death warning all away.

There was a fallen tree outside the ring of black rocks. Ancient, bleached gray by the years it had lain there. Sam walked over to it. Underneath the tree the wood was dry and powdery. _Dean said fire is the only thing he thinks will stop it. I hope he's right. God, I hope he's alive. Dean hang on, just hang on. _He gathered up as much as he could hold in his arms. _Faster, I need to go faster. I hope this works, I hope Dean was right. I hope he's still alive. God, I hope that's the right hope to have. No, of course it is. He'll be ok. He has to be. _He made a small pile out side the mouth of the cave and thrust his torch into it. It caught quickly, as fast as if he had put some kind of starter on it. The flames warm in the cold sunrise.

He went back for another load and another. The song was still flowing out of the void, out into the slowly brightening day, out to the rocks still shadow shapes themselves. Three trips and he had a large pile outside the cave entrance. And he heard nothing, the song was gone, the soft sigh filtering through the dark had diminished to nothing.

_Oh, my god, it stopped, it stopped! DEAN! I have to stop it, I have to get to Dean before its finished. I have to. What I saw, what it plans for Dean, what it plans for the world. No. I have to stop it, I can't let that happen, can't let that terror lose on the world. I have to get to Dean._

It was his moment.

He grabbed a branch and shoved it in the fire he had set outside the entrance then, picking up an armful of wood, he walked slowly into the dark void. The tunnel twisted and turned, winding through the mountain, down into the unwalked bowels of the earth. It finally opened up into a large cavern. He dropped the load of wood and ran back to the entrance and grabbed another. He retuned the cavern. There was another opening across the large room, a black gash in the wall. The soft humming song of it was flowing out of that dark mouth in the earth, much lower now, a keening sound of pleasure, of satisfaction, of anticipation. _That must be where it took Dean, I have to get him out of there before I start this fire._

He turned to get one more load of wood and he stopped. Something was there. He shone the torch around the room, in the middle, still, unmoving, was his brother. "Dean!" He ran to him, and dropped down on his knees beside him. He put a shaking hand against Dean's neck. Nothing, his brother was cold, the black tendrils running up his neck and across his face. _No, not now, please Dean, not yet. _"No, Dean, no," he said. The tears started, he was weeping, the sobs ripping out of him in violent gasps.

"NO!" The rage that had been building, the violent emotion that had driven the venom down, now exploded out of him in a wave of white hot fury. Before he even knew what had happened, before he could stop himself, he screamed into the night, "YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS! YOU KILLED MY BROTHER, YOU DIE FOR THIS."

He ran to the entrance of the great cavern and grabbed the wood, carrying it across to where Dean lay, to where the other void led down into the dark night. He piled the wood there, blocking the passage back into the world. He shoved the burning branch into it and the ancient wood exploded into flames that shot out, across his brother, lighting Dean's pant leg on fire. Sam saw his brother's leg react to the heat. He jumped back and slapped the fire out.

"Dean?" _Dean? You're alive? Come on Dean, I know you're in there. Give me a sign, come on! _He put a hand down on Dean's chest. Nothing. He was about to pull his hand away when he felt a single beat, eighteen long counts later another beat. His brother's chest rose under his hand. "Oh, god, Dean, you're alive, you're alive." He carefully picked his brother up, shielding him from the flames, turning his back on its dark kingdom where the fire now flickered and raged. He carried Dean out where the sun was beginning to warm the broken landscape.

Sam could hear it screaming, caught in the fire he had set. It was a scream of rage, it was a scream that had haunted a thousand nights, and had echoed over battlefields wet with blood, places of the feast. It shouted its rage out to Sam. And suddenly, like the coming of the silence in the forest it touched him, that velvet touch sliding into him. Sam saw his brother's death there before him. It intended to pull Dean away with it into the dark. _No, you don't get Dean, no. Not now, no._

Suddenly Dean flinched, his body reacting to an invisible invasion, his muscles tensing, obviously in agony. Sam held Dean tight against him. "Dean!" He said trying to pull his brother away from it, trying to keep him there, in the light. "DEAN!" His brother's body was writhing in pain, twisting in his arms. Sam held on, trying to comfort Dean, wanting to stop what was taking his brother away.

Sam was desperate, Dean was dying in his arms, killed by something he could do nothing to stop. He looked down at his brother's burned pant leg, where the heat had raised blisters on his skin. _Oh god, Dean, I'm sorry for that. I'm so…What's that?_ Where the fire had burned the leg the black tendrils had faded. "Dean! Your leg, oh my god, your leg!" _I wonder if that will stop it? Hang on Dean. _"I have an idea." He carefully set his brother down and ran to the fire. He pulled a branch from the flames and knelt down beside his brother. _Hang on Dean. _"This might hurt." _Yeah, Dean and I just lied to you, this will hurt and hurt a lot. Just hang on, please. Let this work. Oh, god can I do this? _

Taking a deep breath he laid the branch against his brother's leg. The skin sizzled where it touched and white streaks coursed up the black vines, forcing them up and out. Dean moaned and then cried out in agony. Sam looked away from the anguish on his brother's face. Finally he saw the white light race up Dean's neck and through the black web on his face. Sam pulled the branch away and let it drop. He pulled Dean up against him again, wrapping his arms around his brother. Dean relaxed, as if he were gently letting go his hold on something, slowly dropping down against his brother. _Dean? Did it leave? Is it dead? Are you ok? Are you…did you…no Dean… _

"It's ended. Thank you, Sam," a tiny wisp of sound reached out to Sam.

"Dean? It's ended? It's over? Thank god." Sam had his hand on Dean's chest, he could feel a faint heartbeat. _You're alive, Dean. Oh my god, you're a mess, Dean don't die now, please, not now. I have to get you help, I have to, fast. How can I get you out of here? _He looked around, they were high above the tree line, nearly at the top of a small mountain, towering over the nearby hills. _I wonder? _He gently laid Dean down and pulled the emergency blanket out of their pack. He wrapped it around his brother and then made a small fire to keep him warm.

It looked like a long way, but there was a plateau above him. _I bet the phone will work up there if there is a tower anywhere around._ He slowly dragged himself up the hill to the plateau. He pulled out his phone and turned it on, waiting as it booted up. No bars, one bar, two, three. _That should be enough, 911 please work out here._

He dialed, a calm voice answered, reassured him help would be on its way, and asked him to stay on the line, leave the cell phone on so they could find him. He started to walk back down and stumbled on the steep trail. He couldn't find the strength to get on his feet again so he crawled back to Dean and pulled his brother against him, resting his cheek on the top of Dean's head.

"They're coming Dean, we're getting out of here, rescue is on the way." He shifted so Dean was a clasped against him a little tighter. He waited, his body slowly failing, until he heard the sound of the helicopter in the distance. _Hold on, Dean, they're here._ He closed his eyes and finally gave in to the darkness of oblivion.

**XXX**

It was there, holding him, its claw poised above his eyes, the needle sharp point pressing slowly into him. Black tendrils moving across his face, icy lines of death, pulling him away into the night. The black web covered him, reaching into the ground and binding him there in the darkness, holding him as it played in his mind, sharing the horror, making him beg for death. He saw Sam laying beside him, covered in the black vines, his lifeless eyes staring up into the empty sky.

"SAM!" He screamed, grief and rage forcing sound out of him. It laughed at his pain, gently pressing that claw ever deeper into him. He fought the touch of it, trying to get to his brother. "Sam!" The cold was pulling him away, its song filling him, making lines of pain across his body.

"DEAN!" Sam's hands were warm on his shoulders, driving the cold away. "Dean, it's a dream, you're safe. It's ok."

_Sam? Are you ok? I thought I saw…Sam? _It reached out to him and showed him his brother, dead, lying in the cold dawn, the black death covering him like it covered Dean. His final agony painted on his face. _No, Sam, no. You shouldn't have come. I'm sorry, Sammy._

The soft sighing breath surrounded him, his only reality the purring noise of its snarling voice and the pain, agony, fiery in his body. His ankle was throbbing, hot, pulsing pain, like a heartbeat. It was happy, watching him from the fire his brother has set for it. The black threads began to tie themselves together, wrapping him in a cloak of death. He fought, trying to escape, trying to get to Sam's body, needing to force it from his brother before he could go into the dark.

"Sammy, no. NO!" He struggled against the touch of it, holding him immobile.

"Dean, it's ok, I'm here, it's ok. You're safe."

_Sammy? Are you alive? _It laughed at him, at his desperate plea to his brother. He could feel rain on his face, the drops running down his cheeks like tears. The forest was nearly silent around him, he thought he could hear a soft chattering from somewhere, far off, away from where it walked. He was cold. He tried to fight the cold, tried to get to his brother, lying under a fallen tree, held there by the dark shadow shape. He tried, he failed, his body struggling to go on, but he couldn't move. "Sam," and he was crying, the tears cold on his cheeks as he looked at his brother's body.

Warm arms were holding him, tight. "Dean, please, it's a dream, it's ok, you're safe. We're safe." _Sam? Are you there? _"It's ok, Dean." _Sammy. _And he slipped into a gentle dark, silent except for his brother's voice.

Dean was warm, wrapped in a soft blanket of velvety darkness. There was hardly any pain, he was lying on something soft. The air was warm and dry. He lay there neither awake nor fully asleep listening to the soft sounds around him. There were voices slowly becoming intelligible.

"How is he doing?" That sounded like Sam, his voice quiet, gentle, a little sad. _Sam, are you ok? Sammy? _

"He is doing much better. He should make a full recovery, now that the infection and fever are under control," a female voice answered. _And if she is as hot as that voice, wow. _

"Are you sure?" Sam's voice was still full of fear.

"We're pretty sure," she said gently. Dean heard the soft sound of her footsteps leaving the room.

Sam sighed, he must have sat down in a chair. "Dean, man, they keep saying that, but you're still out. Makes me think they are lying to me."

Dean thought he could hear the edges of tears in Sam's voice, he fought his way up through that soft blanket that held him in the dark. "Sammy?" Only it came out as a mumble, barely sound at all. _Wow, my throat hurts. _

"Dean?" Sam's voice shifted, it sounded like he was leaning over him now. "Dean, did you say something?"

"You ok, Sam?" _Well, that sounded almost like what I wanted to say._

"Dean? Are you there?"

"You ok, Sam?" _Come on Sam, that sounded like words that time. _He started trying to force his eyes opened. They felt like they were glued shut.

"Dean! Hey!"

He managed to get his eyes open, trying to focus on his brother. "You ok?" _Would you please just answer the damn question Sam?_

"Me? Yeah, I'm ok," Sam was smiling down at him, tears sparkling on his cheeks. His eyes were a little red around the edges.

"You sure?" He was in a hospital room. There was an IV pole beside him and the antiseptic smell must be coming from the oxygen. He looked over at the other bed in the room. The sheets were wrinkled, someone else was staying in the room. "Sam?"

His brother's eyes followed his, "I'm ok, Dean. They were just keeping me for observation for a day or two."

"You lying to me?"

"Not much. I'm going to be fine, don't worry." Sam sat down on the edge of Dean's bed.

"How bad are you, Sam? I need to know."

"I'm going to be fine, Dean, really," he said softly.

_Yeah, Sam, you look fine. Compared to a corpse you look just fine. And you're going to keep lying to me, too, aren't you? _"Ok, Sam. How am I?" Sleep was starting to reach out for him again, he struggled against it.

Sam swallowed, "They said you should recover from the infection and the wounds." He paused, his eyes searching Dean's face.

"What, Sam?"

"How do you feel?"

"Sleepy," he said, his eyes starting to drift close. "Sorry, Sam, I think I need…Sleepy…" Sam laughed softly, Dean thought he felt his brother's hand on his as he slid into the dark.

A squirrel was chattering at him, complaining of his presence in the woods. It ran down in front of him and stopped. Dean looked down at it. "Sorry, no food. I'm not giving you anything else." The squirrel looked at him and ran off behind the tree. It was back a minute later carrying his gun. _What the hell? I must be dreaming. God, I hope this is a dream. _He forced himself out of the forest, back to his hospital bed.

"Stupid squirrels," he said as he opened his eyes.

Sam was sitting beside the bed, he looked over at him. "Hey, Dean," he smiled. "What did you just say?"

"Squirrels are out to get me, Sammy."

"I don't think the squirrels are after you," his brother said with a soft laugh.

"Yeah, well you weren't the one it was going to shoot, either."

"Dean?" Sam said grinning at him.

"Yeah, Sammy?" He said smiling back.

"I think you might have lost your mind."

"I told you, squirrels got it," he said with a small laugh. "How are you?"

"I'm ok," he said with a sigh.

"Don't sound ok, Sam."

"No, I'm ok. I was…I've been a little worried about you."

"I'm ok."

"Yeah, Dean, sure."

"Sam? What?"

"You were dreaming it was here, screaming about the night. Begging to die, Dean." He watched as the tears welled up in Sam's eyes and started flowing gently down his face. "You were begging to die, Dean. Screaming at it."

"It's ok, Sam. I'm ok, now." _And you're ok too which is more important when all is said and done. _"It was trying to pull me back into the dark with it. I didn't want to go."

Sam smiled, "Yeah, you were fighting it. They had you in restraints there for awhile, you know. Until I realized that was making it worse for you."

"Thanks, Sammy."

"Yeah, funny, when you kept screaming about the night, I kept thinking about this poem."

"Poetry, princess?"

"Yeah," Sam closed his eyes like he was trying to call a printed page in front of his eyes. "Do not go gentle into that good night/Rage, rage against the dying of the light." He looked at Dean the tears still on his cheeks and put his hand over his brother's.

"Good poem there, Sam," Dean said clearing his throat, feeling tears in his own eyes.

"Yeah," Sam smiled at him. "You should get a little more sleep. I'll be here to keep the squirrels away."

"Thanks," he smiled at his brother and closed his eyes. He was just drifting off, slipping back into the dark when he heard Sam whisper "because that good night is death, Dean. Rage against it, that dying light." It was said so softly, Dean thought it was part of a dream.

When he opened his eyes again there was a squirrel staring at him from the bedside tray. "What the hell?"

Sam laughed, it was a happy laugh. "He was hunting you, I brought him here."

Dean picked up the plush squirrel. "Nice, Sammy, cute." Sam was still laughing at him, Dean couldn't resist for long and started laughing to, he threw squirrel at his brother. Sam threw it back. "Thanks, Sam."

"Sure, Dean," he smiled. "Anytime."

**Epilogue**

"Damn it's good to be out of that hospital," Dean said from the passenger seat of the Impala.

"It's good to see you out," Sam said with just a little frown.

"Sammy, I'm ok, another couple of weeks in this cast and I'll be good as new, better in fact, that hot nurse said she'd come by and make sure the circulation was still ok."

"I don't know how you do it," Sam said pulling the car into the parking place outside the motel. He walked around the car and opened the door, holding a hand to help his brother out. Dean grabbed it and let Sam pull him up.

"Thanks," he said as he took the crutches from Sam. He reached back into the car and pulled the plush squirrel off the dashboard and put it carefully in his pocket. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing, Dean," Sam said looking at him, a grin spreading on his face. He walked ahead of him and opened the door, holding it until Dean got to the room.

Dean paused on the threshold, looking out at the sunset, the sky streaked with wisps of clouds, tendrils tracing a path across the sky, blood red where the sun still touched it and black against the eastern horizon. The clouds wove a tapestry of color across the sky. He sighed and turned to follow his brother into the bright motel room, warm, the comforting, familiar smell of pizza and hot chocolate wafting out into the night.

The motel backed up against the forest, the scent of wet fir trees sweet in the cool evening. The ripe smell of fermented berries filled the night. The setting sun had turned the leaves scattered across the ground muted tones of red and brown. A squirrel was chattering away in a tree. Dean smiled, it was a nice night.

"Dean, come on, pizza's getting cold," Sam called from the warm room

"Coming Sammy."

And the squirrel was suddenly silent.

Dean thought he saw something move, a soft sigh whispered on the evening breeze, a soft breath humming in the trees. And he knew, realization curling through him like the cold touch of the winter wind. The first gentle touch of fear wound its way up through his senses, chilling him, taking a small piece of him into the night.

_It's still out there._

_**The End**_


End file.
